


station to station

by ydeggar



Category: David Bowie (Musician)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Drugs, F/M, Falling In Love, Glam Rock, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, London, Love, Mutual Pinning, Rock and Roll, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Slow Burn, United Kingdom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-10-13 08:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 93,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20579165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ydeggar/pseuds/ydeggar
Summary: Have you ever wished to be somebody else? Have you ever had this intense feeling, this craving for changing your life, not just from a particular moment, but from the start of it? Have you ever sat in a dark room and just let your thoughts keep eating you alive, biting, shredding and tearing parts of your brain, because you simply can't change the past?It's called life, it is pretty messed up indeed, darling, but you'll get used to it.~~~david bowie is questioning his current life and ellen dean is running away from hers.





	1. here are we

_Have you ever wished to be somebody else? Have you ever had this intense feeling, this craving for changing your life, not just from a particular moment, but from the very start of it? Have you ever sat in a dark room and just let your thoughts keep eating you alive, biting, shredding and tearing parts of your brain, because you simply can't change the past?_

_People _ _have_ _ a tendency to regret and remorse almost every failure they've been through, wanting so badly to redo all their bad decisions in life. Bad decisions though, they teach us to make better ones in the future. Without bad choices people would think they're infallable, that they're some kind of gods themselves. And there just cannot possibly be four billion gods on one planet, can there? The funniest part is that the awareness of this doesn't change a bit the fact, that people still keep drowning themselves in regrets instead of learning lessons and move on._

_It's called life, it is pretty messed up indeed, darling, but you'll get used to it._

* * *


	2. one magical moment

He finally stood up and put his cigarette down, his thoughts still racing, his heart pumping blood, alcohol in his veins, and his head aching like hell. The night was no good and he knew he should try to get some sleep before it all will swallow him alive and split on the ground. Dim candle light was the only thing that allowed to see anything in the dark room. He didn't need it though, for he knew every inch of it by heart. His tired dry eyes forced the eyelids to shut and he made his way to his bedroom. When his bare feet touched warm wooden floor, he recognised there are only four steps left for him to find himself in the large cosy bed.

Things should've been different. Words shouldn't have been spoken. And the liquor definitely shouldn't have been drunk. Nonetheless, before resting his weary head he grabbed a bottle of Glen Grant and finished the leftovers in one sip.

His limbs suddenly felt too weak to hold anything, so the bottle fell silently on a soft carpet as he focused on relaxing his tense muscles. Smooth velvet sheets felt cold under his skin and the baldachin of his king size bed separated him from the rest of the bedroom. Luxurious furniture, expensive alcohol, designer clothes. Everything that he was surrounded by was fake.

He didn't even believe he was real at all anymore.

★

The next morning brought him another, yet still well-known, kind of headache. It wasn't easy to wake up so for a longer period he would just lay and stared at the ceiling wondering why he even started drinking last night. ‘Whyʼ as in ‘what the reason wasʼ but also ‘_why he kept doing this to himself_ʼ.

It didn't take long until his bedroom filled an unbearable noise of a ringing phone. He reached out his hand and took it off the hook. The hands of the clock on his bedside table pointed noon. Knowing this couldn't last forever, he forced himself to get up. His head felt so heavy on his neck, so he slowly tilted it left and right, increasing the stretch with his hand.

‘David, darling, are you up?ʼ he heard from the kitchen.

He entered the kitchen, smell of freshly ground coffee in the air filling his nostrils, and saw a blonde woman sitting at the table, reading a newspaper.

‘What are you doing in my house?ʼ he snapped, sleepiness causing him to forget his manners. He immediately wanted to reflect but it was too late for she glared at him offended.

‘You were supposed to be at the recording studio at eight,ʼ she said carefully, still not over his unpleasant behaviour.

‘I'm terribly sorry, Janet,ʼ he started with a sigh, creating a loop with two ties of his dressing gown. ‘The truth to be told, I completely forgot about it.ʼ

He reached for a coffee mug just to find it empty, which made him slightly disappointed but Janet poured him some from a coffee pot. The drink was a bit cold which made its taste even stronger but that was how he liked it the most. Cold and strong. He never drank hot coffee – once it was ready, he would leave it and forget about it for at least an hour.

‘Well, no wonder you did—ʼ she stated looking around. ‘Considering this mess you've made here.ʼ

The place was, in fact, a total muddle. Clothes scattered around, empty bottles and cigarette ends everywhere, his beloved books on the floor, alongside with scrunched pieces of paper. This shouldn't surprise anyone, given the muddle in his head. The problem was that no one really realised it. Or maybe they just chose not to, for ignorance is bliss.

‘Alright, give me ten minutes, would you?ʼ he asked finishing his coffee.

‘Ten minutes,ʼ she stressed. ‘I have already rescheduled your session but you're really short on time. I don't know how youʼre going to make it—ʼ

David rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette before heading to his bedroom to get dressed.

★

Life was never easy for Ellen Dean. When she was four years old, she witnessed her father beating her mother for the first time. To be honest, she barely remembered anything before that moment. Her father used to be a soldier during the war, one of those trapped in Dunkirk. He wore nasty scars from the day he barely escaped with life after the Nazis bombed containers with oil. He never spoke of war, he was rather a silent man, a man of act, you might say. Despite losing his right hand, the left one worked very good, which they had many chances to find to their cost. Ellen came into the world five years after the war, as the third child of her parents – she had two older brothers – but that didn't mean she was treated any better.

All of those events, and many more, led her to this day and this place. With one rucksack and ten pounds in her pocket, she finally decided to leave her home town and head to London. She didn't believe, unlike many who came here, that there'd be a better life waiting for her in London. She didn't hope for a better life anymore. She just thirsted for freedom. Even if it would turn out to be more difficult to bear.

London Waterloo Station was unusually crowded this day. It was Saturday and for most people it was the only opportunity to go out of the city. Especially given the weather, which surprised everyone – England rarely had this luxury of such beautiful, sunny weather in spring. It was no stereotype that this country was always flooded with rainwater. But this time it was different.

The sunshine was breaking through a glass barrel vault that covered the concourse. In the middle of the crowd she somehow managed to find a coffee cart. She rushed to it, feeling relieved because tiredness didn't allow her to fully function anymore.

‘One coffee, please,ʼ she ordered, holding her only book under her arm, as she gazed at a menu board in the background. ‘Black, with vanilla syrup.ʼ

After a short time of waiting, she was given a steaming hot cup. It was burning her palms so she took a few napkins to hold it through them.

‘That'll be a sixpenny.ʼ

Still holding her coffee in one hand, she drew money from her pocket with the other one, found a silver coin and dropped it on the counter.

‘Thank you, sir,ʼ she smiled politely and turned to walk away.

★

‘Alright, everybody, thank you, that should be it for now!ʼ said Tony, his producer.

Musicians left the booth chatting cheerfully, though they all were tired after a long draining record session.

‘Tony, my dear man,ʼ started David, trying to make his tone as considerate as possible. ‘Personally, I would like to retry the last part, if you don't mind. I'm not sure about it.ʼ

Tony looked at him with his dark thick eyebrows raised and his arms crossed.

‘I think it's good enough. Besides we don't have time for this. Maybe if you hadn't came here late—ʼ

‘I won't apologise for it forever. What's done is done,ʼ David rolled his eyes, slightly irritated.

‘Yes. What's done is done,ʼ Tony repeated. ‘You were late, you didn't do your best today but we can't do anything about it now. You're not the only person working on this album, Dave. So stop acting like you were. We don't have much time until the release.ʼ

With no intentions to stand this rubbish anymore, David snorted to emphasize his thoughts of it all and left the studio without a word. By the time he got out of the building, looking around for a taxi, he was just purely mad at everyone. Smoking his last cigarette, he brushed drops of sweat from his forehead, before they got on his sunglasses, and stepped into a shadow to hide away from the blazing sun.

Usually he loved talking. He really did. But for the first time he was glad that the taxi driver didn't ask him a thing, apart from the question about his destination. David mumbled name of the railway station and moved his stare to look out the tinted window. He just wanted to get back home. Drink something strong and smoke a fucking cigarette.

Waiting for the train to arrive, he decided to get another coffee. He stood in a line behind some girl, facing the ground so no one could recognise him through his poor disguise. It wasn't the best idea to use public transportation but sometimes it was good to feel that the world was still there, in its place, revolving around the sun. That there were real people, not only crowds in a concert arena.

Suddenly he felt someone banging into him, hot fluid splattering all over his shirt. He jumped away, unpeeling the wet material from his chest.

‘Oh, I am so sorry!ʼ

‘It's okay, no harm done, really—ʼ he muttered under his breath, but when he raised his eyes, he only caught a glimpse of dark hair of the girl running away in a hurry.

★

She threw the paper cup to the closest bin and rushed to the platform where her train was supposed to arrive. Her cheeks burned with blushes as the embarrassment crept into her veins. Obviously she just panicked but now she was scared that this man would follow her and make her pay for the damage. Luckily, the station was so crowded that there was no chance he would find her. She entered the Platform 3 and put her hands in big pockets of her jacket.

The worst thing about this idea of hers, the idea of coming to London, was the fact she had no further destination set. She didn't know what to do, where to go. It all was a very impulsive decision and now that she was there, the impulse burned down and left her completely alone in a foreign city. It was late, the big clock above the entrance showed seven, so the only thing she could do now, was wait until the next morning.

She looked straight ahead and then her eyes met his. He was standing on the next platform, wearing a long, cream-coloured trench and leather gloves, his red hair hidden under a fedora. He was just wiping his sunglasses when he glanced at her and smiled with a sparkle. It was the first time she saw those magnificent eyes and it made her stunned. She knew it was him because of the stained shirt under his trench coat. But in those eyes there was no blame, just kindness. And something that could be taken for deeply concealed sadness.

And then a train pulled into the station, between their platforms, cutting their eye contact like scissors. By the time it left, the man was already gone.


	3. such is the stuff

The night was cold. No one expected it, considering that nice weather during the day. But then again, no one really had to care. After getting to the heart of London Ellen spent hours on walking around and enjoying the sights. The night city was much quieter and frankly, it suited her fine. It was so much different than Salisbury, she was feeling completely lost in it, yet it didn't bother her. She found herself again near Waterloo, where she'd taken a train to another station before – unnecessarily, as it turned out. She stopped by a stone lion guarding the entrance to the Westminister Bridge for the view took her breath away for a while. On the other side of Thames, she saw the Clock Tower and the Palace of Westminster, both making her stand in awe. It was such an amazing view, she felt excitement tickling her neck. The big clock stroke four in the morning as she sat down on a plinth of the lion scuplture, embracing her knees to keep herself warmer, the rucksag between her legs. She was so tired, she wished she had a chance to drink that coffee, instead of spilling it on some stranger. Of course she could've just got another one but that wasn't necessary and money could be useful – she had no idea whether she'd find any job here. Although the first offer appeared sooner than she'd want it to.

‘Hey, wanna come with us and have some fun?ʼ a group of men shouted to her, lowering their car window.

Judging from their thick accent they must've been Americans. Therefore, she decided to reply in an American way.

‘Go fuck yourselves,ʼ she growled and quickly moved to go somewhere else.

Although they'd already driven away guffawing like a drain, she kept turning her head back nervously. Next time she must find a place to stay at instead of wandering around a whole night.

★

The interview he'd given in the morning, turned out to be much less entertaining than expected. By the time he got back home, he was irritated, tired and simply numb, his heart pumping like had just ran a marathon. Trying to calm down and forget about every thing disturbing his mind, he poured himself a drink and fired a cigarette with his zippo lighter. Sitting in an armchair, suddenly something caught his eye. It was an old-looking book on a table next to a light-coloured, leather sofa. He took it and turned in his hands, giving it a little more attention now. It was a pocket edition, it fitted just one hand. The cover was frayed around the corners and the spine had been fixed multiple times with a tape. The pages inside had already turned yellow, no wonder – the front page said the copy was from 1947. He sat in his armchair in front of a big window and carresed the back spine with his fingers, feeling a little tickle on his fingertips. Golden letters arranged into a title ‘_Wuthering Heights_ʼ. He had never read it, not particularly attracted to romance novels but now that he had it and the owner was nowhere to be found, maybe one day he would give it a try. He took a cigarette between his lips and lit it, without bothering to open the window. Inhaling the smoke into his lungs, he put the book down on the table and leaned back in his armchair.

He was feeling worn out and washed out of emotions. With his eyes closed and his mouth breathing out thin clouds of smoke, he was wondering if he had ever enjoyed any of it. And if he ever would enjoy anything at all again.

Or maybe it was just the drugs wearing off.

★

It was past twelve when she entered a dark shop on the corner of Ferndale and Nursery Road. She'd already checked in some cheap hostel and took a shower after the whole night spent outside, so now she was refreshed and determined to make another step in her life. The big wooden door with a "Help Wanted" sign on it made a bell above it rang. Inside the shop there was no living soul, so she spoke falteringly:

‘Hello? Is anyone here?ʼ

A rumbling noise came from the store room and the next moment an old man with a smoking pipe appeared by the counter. He fixed his glasses and smiled widely.

‘Good morning—er, afternoon!ʼ he exclaimed with joy. ‘Good afternoon, young lady, how can I help you?ʼ

She looked around. There were many instruments hung on walls – mostly guitars and saxophones, but even a piano found its place in the corner. The other half of the room, separated with a folding screen, was dedicated to the records, some of them were already sorted by year of publication and name but most were still in big boxes. In the background there was some smooth jazz playing. She found the atmosphere inside very pleasant.

‘Um—I was just passing by and saw the sign that you need help and I thought—ʼ she stuttered.

‘If you're looking for a job, just say it and don't keep me in suspence, please!ʼ he begged with his hands put together like to a prayer.

‘Yes, well, I'm interested,ʼ she cracked a smile.

‘Brilliant! Then consider yourself hired! I'm sorry, it wasn't the most professional job interview but as you can see, I could really use some help here—When can you start?ʼ

She scratched her neck, feeling a little self-conscious and replied:

‘Even right away.ʼ

‘You were sent to me by God himself! Alrighty, now, could you help me and unpack those boxes, please? The records need to be sorted—ʼ

‘—by year and a name, I presume?ʼ she guessed, turning to the cardboard boxes.

‘You're learning fast,ʼ he laughed, stretching his hand and added: ‘Victor Furlong. As you can tell, by the name of this shop.ʼ

She looked at a sign above the record shelves, that said ‘Furlong & Sonsʼ. For a moment she was going to ask about the sons but seeing happiness and relief in his eyes when she expressed her interest in working here, she could really guess the answer for that.

‘Ellen Dean,ʼ she shook his hand firmly and went back to unpacking the records.

‘I'm really pleased to meet you, Ellen Dean,ʼ he said honestly. ‘So, you're not from London, are you?ʼ

‘No, I've just got here. I'm from Salisbury actually.ʼ

‘And how do you like London?ʼ he asked casually, glazing at her from some papers he was filling on the counter.

‘It's lovely.ʼ

This day, the second day in London, gave her much more hope than the first one. She had a good feeling about this job, she'd immediately liked the owner. And the shop was so calm and peaceful, unlike within four walls of her family house. The only problem left was accommodation. She couldn't afford living in a hostel room.

‘Hey, Mr Furlong—ʼ she began, biting her lower lip. ‘Do you, by any chance, happen to know some cheap place to rent? I'm currently staying at a hostel near Hampstead Heath, I think, but I'm looking for a room or anything—ʼ

Mr Furlong fixed his glasses and knitted his eyebrows, thinking.

‘Well, as a matter of fact, I do know a place. My neighbour, Mrs—ʼ

He got interrupted by the bell which notified them of someone entering the shop.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Furlong!ʼ

Ellen didn't raise her eyes, focused on layering the records on the shelf, though she did heard a deep London accent, somehow different to Mr Furlong's.

‘David, good afternoon!ʼ Mr Furlong welcomed the man with excitement, like a grandfather who hadn't seen his grandson for a longer time. ‘What can I do for you, boy?ʼ

‘Oh, I've just come for new strings,ʼ he replied brightly. ‘How is your wife, sir?ʼ

‘She's actually doing better, thank you. She was just asking about you the other day, we saw you on telly!ʼ

Although Ellen really didn't want to eavesdrop on them, the last sentence unconsciously caught her ear. She was kneeling on the floor tiles and cutting the tape that was wrapping the cardboard box, when she let herself take a peek at the stranger. Firstly she saw his black classic shoes and suit trousers. Then, the higher her eyes were going, the faster her heart was beating. A cream-coloured trench coat. Sunglasses. Red hair. A dark fedora.

‘Ouch!ʼ she hisses under her breath, feeling sharp pain as a cutter slit her fingertip.

She put the finger in her mouth and, finding a tissue in her pocket, wrapped it around the cut to stop the bleeding.

It drew his attention so he looked at her. It was the second time their eyes met and once again she felt this bizarre tickling inside her stomach, both pleasant and uncomfortable.

‘Oh, hello there,ʼ he gave her a bright smile, yet his face looked dim and tired. He seemed to be quite surprised as he must've recognised her.

‘G—good afternoon, sir,ʼ she muttered shyly.

Mr Furlong went to the store room to look for the strings for him and they were both left alone in the shop. She stood up carrying a pile of new, shrink-wrapped vinyl and turned around to stack them on the shelves. She put them on top of the already sorted records and searched them for those which name started with L. She decided to ignore the man, mostly because she was still embarrassed about what had happened yesterday. He, for a change, had no intentions to ignore her.

‘Do you believe in destiny, Ellen Dean?ʼ she heard a soft male voice as he found himself next to her, looking at some records.

Her knees felt weak at the sound of her name in his lips. She didn't turn to him, they were just standing side by side – she was sorting the records and he was pulling them out and watching their covers carefully.

‘What kind of question is that?ʼ

He cracked a smile at her serious fright, which made him look like an adorable child, and he reached to his pocket.

‘I believe this belongs to you. I was going to keep it for I have never read it, but now that I've found you—ʼ He handed her an old, used pocket-size book.

Her eyes twitched as she took the item from him. She hadn't ever realised it was lost and it was one of the most precious things she owned.

‘Thank you,ʼ she murmured. 'And, er—I'm really sorry about your shirt. I will pay for the cleaning, I promise.ʼ

‘Oh, come on, don't be silly,ʼ he laughed shortly. ‘It's just a shirt. Not even my favourite, to be honest.ʼ

She was about to argue, but then Mr Furlong came back from the store room with a victorious shout.

‘I have found the last set to your twelve-string!ʼ

The man clapped his hands gladly and thanked Mr Furlong at least three times, before turning back to her and saying, ‘If anything, I should be the one to make it up to you.ʼ

She furrowed her eyebrows in a confusion. His appearance was so nonchalant and self-assured she was almost jealous of it. Never in her wildest dreams had she so much confidence while talking to other people.

‘You didn't get to drink your coffee because some clot decided to stand in your way!ʼ he explained with a graceful laugh.

His extraordinary eyes were drilling right into her soul. She finally managed to see what was so special about them – the pupils were different size. Once she noticed it, she felt really bad for staring so she looked away, taking another pile of vinyl from the box. Her cheeks were burning with red blushes as they were still standing next to each other, now in a complete quietness.

‘It was a punch,ʼ he spoke out calmly after a while.

‘Huh?ʼ

‘My eye.ʼ He pointed at his left pupil. ‘I got punched by a friend. Over a girl, can you believe it?ʼ he laughed. ‘Don't be afraid, you can look at it if you want to. I really don't mind it.ʼ

She smiled faintly and fixed her eyes on the string set he put next to him.

‘So—you play the guitar?ʼ she asked politely, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

‘I play many instruments actually. I'm a musician.ʼ

‘Oh, okay.ʼ

‘You're not easy to impress, are you?ʼ he laughed playfully.

She gazed at him again. There was something unnatural about him, he looked like his body was exhausted but his mind was ready to explode any minute from too much energy.

‘Should only the fact that you're a musician impress me, even though I don't know your music?ʼ she muttered, blushes creeping onto her cheeks again.

‘How come? I thought you work here,ʼ he said, a slight surprise in his voice.

Ellen decided to skip the fact of how long she had actually worked in this place. And also the fact that honestly she didn't know many of today's musicians. Her mother would only listen to classical music and she could never afford to buy any records on her own. Of course she would listen to a radio from time to time, but it didn't make her an expert.

‘Let me take you for a coffee, please.ʼ

Even if she hadn't felt intimidated by him, she just couldn't have said no to those eyes. Yet there was just one thing in the way.

‘I don't even know you, sir.ʼ

He turned to face her and stretched his hand with a gentle half-smile.

‘David Jones.ʼ

Their hands touched and it felt like touching ice. This gesture combined with the most beautiful smile she had even seen, sent chills down her spine.

‘Ellen Dean.ʼ

‘Lovely to meet you.ʼ

She wanted to ask how did he know her name but it would've only made her look like a fool. She always signed her books on the title page.

‘I'll see you tomorrow at four then?ʼ

She nodded, tongue-tied as he sent her the last smile and watched him exit the shop, leaving her with her heart fluttering insanely.


	4. from where dreams

There are only few things in life you can consider worth living it for. To David Bowie, it was the stage, the studio and parties. To David Jones, for a change, it was probably a cigarette in early mornings and a book in late evenings. Now, while being between the new album and the tour, the worst part for him was during the day and the night, because he didn't have those David Bowie's things to enjoy. For all those reasons, there he was. Sitting in an empty house like the only person in the world, feeling so small and pathetic with a rolled note in his fingers and his head tilted back. A thick white line was still there on his desk, untouched, as he struggled to move his limbs.

He'd only needed a minute, not longer, for the drug to kick in after snorting it. All his previous nerves and anxiety washed away as he achieved the blissful state of mind. Suddenly he felt like doing something, anything – dancing, talking, laughing. All was fine once again. Or at least bearable. In fear of losing this euphoria, he lined up another one and then decided to make a call. After a few signals he heard a rusty voice in the phone.

‘Hello?ʼ

‘Mick! My dearest friend, how are you?ʼ he exclaimed, leaning back in his armchair.

‘Hey, Davie! Hold on a sec—ʼ there were some weird noises and laughs in the background but then they stopped ‘—Okay, so, believe it or not, but I was just thinking of you! Are you in London? Me and the boys are going out on the lash tonight, wanna join us?ʼ

‘Can't say no to that, can I?ʼ

‘Of course you can't. So we'll see you in an hour! I'll call up the girls, you know, we'll some have fun—ʼ

David stood up and grinned to himself. It was half past six and he couldn't spend another minute in this house. It was either sitting here, alone with his own mess or do a blast and forget it at least for a while. And as he had just did _the blast_, the choice was obvious.

‘Brilliant. I'll see you soon!ʼ

There was no doubt about the place where they were going to meet. It had always been the same place. Soho, of course. The fanciest and most entertaining district in London, all of the important people – and by ‘importantʼ it's meant ‘important in show businessʼ – would've met there on Friday night. David put on a silver button up shirt and braces instead of a belt for his cinereous trousers. On his head, he put a bakerboy hat, remembering Mick complimented it last time.

He really enjoyed Mick's company. He was like a dear brother to him, they always had the best time together, making greatest memories. Unfortunately, most of those memories weren't remembered by any of them personally, they would find out about them from fritters of someone else's mind and conversations with them. But this was kind of an indication of a marvelous night. Even though the more marvelous nights he made, the more his brain resembled a sponge with giant pores absorbing the alcohol-cocaine solution like water.

Once he was ready, he lit a cigarette and went downstairs to get a taxi. A black FX4 pulled over by the road after a few minutes, so he got into the back seat.

‘To the corner of Brewer and Lexinton Street, please.ʼ

He drew on his cigarette, cracking a window a little. His heart was pumping so intensive, he could hear this pulsing noise of blood in both of his ears. Despite the heavy traffic, the journey didn't last so long and before he knew it, they reached the destination.

‘We're here, sir,ʼ the taxi driver informed him.

David, in quite a hurry, snorted the rest of his coke, knowing there surely will be more soon. He paid the driver, leaving much larger sum than he was supposed to, and left the car in excitement and euphoria taking over his senses.

★

‘We're closing in fifteen, Ellen!ʼ Mr Furlong told her, as she was tidying the store room. Suddenly she heard a loud noise so she rushed to the shop room to check on him.

‘Oh my God, are you okay, sir?ʼ

He was standing with his arms raised between two hooks for guitars on a dark wall, a smoking pipe in his right hand and pieces of shattered glass down by his feet.

‘Eh—Could you bring me a broom?ʼ he asked, frowning his face and looking at the mess he'd made in dismay. ‘Bother it, I dropped the signed Aftermath vinyl!ʼ

‘Hold on, I'll get the broom and sweep it!ʼ

She went to the store room, wondering what Aftermath was and how stupid and ignorant she would seem if she asked about it.

As she finished sweeping the glass, Mr Furlong helping her with a dustpan, she picked up the black record and examined it, looking for any scratches on its surface.

‘It will sound awfully dumb but what is it actually?ʼ

Mr Furlong looked at her in surprise but didn't comment on this. Instead he took the record from her and answered:

‘It's a 1966 Rolling Stones album. The US edition,ʼ he added with pride and she nodded as the name of this band actually sounded familiar – her high school friend was a huge fan of them. ‘It was given to me, along with Mick Jagger's signature, by David, over a year ago. You've met David yesterday, remember?ʼ

She couldn't help but blush at his name. Yes, they had met and he had even invited her for a coffee at four. But she hadn't held out much hope for this, it was almost eight in the evening and she'd even got over that feeling of disappointment already.

‘I have some of his records too, if you're interested.ʼ Mr Furlong pointed to a chest of drawers with a beautiful, old graphone on it, just like the one they'd owned in her home in Salisbury. ‘He's such a talented boy, our Davie. And you can use the record player whenever you want to, by the way. All my private records are in that showcase.ʼ

‘Thank you, Mr Furlong,ʼ she smiled at him and picked up a dustpan to throw out the pieces of the broken glass frame.

‘Oh, and I almost forgot!ʼ he exclaimed, rummaging in his pockets to pull out a folded piece of paper. ‘You were asking about a room to rent, weren't you? Here's a number. Or you can just go there, it's actually two doors away. My neighbour, Mrs Joyce, has a spare room, since her children moved out. She used to let it to students but there were only troubles with them. And I think I can vouch for you. You seem to be a decent person.ʼ

She took a paper from him and sent him a grateful smile. She was truly touched by his involvement.

‘Thank you so much, sir, I really don't know what I'd do without your help!ʼ she confessed. ‘Do you know when your neighbour will be home?ʼ

‘Well, she works as a tailor, down the road, but I think she'll be home by nine. But you better call her, because I can't guarantee it,ʼ he told her drawing on his pipe. ‘Alright, listen, dear child, I need to leave earlier today. My wife sent me to buy flour and some olives, and the grocer's closes in few minutes. Could you please close the shop for me?ʼ

‘Of course, you go, sir, I'm just going to dust the shelves first and close right away.ʼ

‘Very good. Take care, Ellen.ʼ He took his coat off coat rack and put a set of keys on the counter. ‘Just be here tommorow at eleven, please, because I'm leaving you with my keys!ʼ

She waved her boss goodbye and once she was alone, she sighed looking around. There was a duster lying on the counter, next to the keys. She was about to take it and clean the place, but her eye was caught by the gramophone. She approached it and lifted the needle with a due level in order to change the vinyl. She thought it was probably her first time using a gramophone but she'd watched her parents do it thousand times before. In the showcase there was plenty of different records. It was mostly jazz and blues, New Orlean was definitely Mr Furlong's thing. There were some of the artist she knew and much more of those who seemed to be popular but she had no idea who they were. One was for sure, Mr Furlong was a real collector - no wonder though, after all he ran a music shop. Or maybe it was the other way round.

Between some of Keith Jarett and Bob Dylan, she found a vinyl with a familiar face on its cover. She knew this face, she'd been waiting for it to appear in the shop since the morning. But it hadn't appeared. She was intrigued, especially because of a different name on it. She put the record on and played it. The gramophone started to release scratchy sounds before the music began.

She was just dusting the piano, listening to the song as her brain started to remember it more and more with each note. She knew it. Of course she did. Maybe she was a music ignorant but every bloody British person knew the song they played as the background to the BBC transmission of the launch of Apollo 11. She sat at the piano and played along the music, humming the calm, soothing melody for a while. The song was beautiful and his voice mesmerising. It brought back the thoughts of the coffee meeting that hadn't happened. Why hadn't he showed up? Had he forgotten? Or maybe just regretted asking her in the first place? She wasn't mad at him or didn't feel sad actually, she just thought that wasn't like him. He seemed to be a very polite, well-behaved man. Not the type to ask you out and never show up. But then again how would she know? They had only met two times.

_‘__For here am I floating in a tin can,ʼ _the voice sang. '_Far above the world__—_ʼ

‘—_Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do,ʼ _she finished the verse quietly.

Once the song was over, she closed the piano and made sure everything was turned off and done before closing the shop. It was half past eight, which meant she had half an hour until Mrs Joyce's return. The evening was warm enough, so she spent it on smoking cigarettes and reading her book in a park nearby.

When the time came, she found the address Mr Furlong had given her and knocked the door three times. A thin lady, in her fourties, opened the door and immediately invited her in. She offered her tea and biscuits which was so kind of her, Ellen almost felt like hugging her. Mrs Joyce seemed to look very happy that she'd found someone to let a room to and Ellen was even happier that she wouldn't have to sleep in a hostel on the other side of London. Especially that she'd allowed her to move in right away, which really suited her. The room was small but it was more than enough. It was on the top floor and there were stairs leading to it from the front door, so it was practically like she had her own place with no one disturbing her. It was perfect and almost unreal that her life had been going so well since she got here. Had she known it, she'd have done it years ago. She should've run away from those mad people, that she'd called her family, years ago.

★

For the whole night David had this thought at the back of his mind, that he was forgetting something very significant and he had to push this thought away so it wouldn't spoil his mood. His friends kept asking him what was wrong but he honestly had no idea.

‘My guess is, you haven't have enough!ʼ said Keith leaning over him and piling up white powder on the table, his breath smelled like pure spirit and an ashtray but David really didn't care.

‘My God, Keith, I swear, you keep snorting so much and you'll be dead in a year!ʼ David rolled his eyes.

The whole room burst in laugh.

‘You telling me this, is like a snake mocking a centipede for not being able to use its limbs!ʼ Keith cutted off with a smirk.

There were two girls sitting between him and Mick, both equally drunk, skimpily dressed and randy. David put his arm around one of them and pulled her closer, so she sat on his lap. He snorted the drug Keith had piled up for him and then all of the sudden it hit him like a thunder.

‘Holy fuck!ʼ He scrambled, his vision blurry and his head spinning. ‘I must go, gentlemen,ʼ he announced to them.

‘What the fuck, Dave? Where are you going, it's three in the fucking morning!ʼ pointed Mick, the look on his face bewildered.

But he couldn't focus on their words, he didn't actually care about them, suddenly they became just the spare background. He took his coat of his chair and stormed out of the club, lighting a cigarette on his way.

‘Taxi!ʼ He waved at the nearest black vehicle and got inside as soon as it'd approached him.

He couldn't think straight, he was completely mashed, yet his thoughts were very loud and clear. 


	5. are woven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i (intentionally) mixed up some biographical stuff from bowie's career (e.g. album's producers and recording studios) and i will do it more bc fuck it it's my book and if i say suffragette city is from low album then it fucking is (but i won't cause it's not and i have some dignity)

_Bang. _

_Bang, bang. _

A loud knocking carried through the room of her studio flat. She gasped in a fright and fixed her eyes on the door. She places her book on the bedside table and put out her cigarette. The silence was even more dead than before the noise. She wrapped the blanket tighter around her, waiting to see whether the noise would return. The room was dim, for it was the middle of the night and the only light inside was from a small lamp by her bed.

_Bang. _

_Bang, bang. _

The same pattern repeated. She got up, afraid that the noise would've woken the whole building and approached the door. Her breath was ragged and her hands shook as she touched the handle but didn't press it.

‘W—who is it?ʼ she stuttered out.

In reply she heard another loud knock which made her jump out from the door.

‘S'me,ʼ the night intruder finally spoke shortly.

She wasn't sure if she should open the door to an unknown person in the middle of the night. The voice didn't sound any familiar but maybe she would need to hear it more to recognise it.

‘Me who?ʼ

‘You know very well who, darling, just open the door for me, please.ʼ

Her heart skipped a beat and for a brief moment she wasn't breathing. She unlocked the door but left the door chain. And as she cracked the door a little, her eyes saw a pair of unmatched pupils. Their faces were just a few inches apart and she could feel warm air on her skin as he was breathing.

‘Are you out of your mind, sir?ʼ she hissed.

‘I am perfectly right _in _my mind, thank you very much,ʼ he rolled his eyes and leaned on the door, the chain holding them close to the wall clung unsafely.

She let out a long sigh, pushing her body against the door to close them and released the chain. The door opened itself and they stood in front of each other. He was much taller, especially when straightened up and facing her, the distance between them uncomfortably small. She stepped aside and let him in. Closing the door behind him, so no more neighbour were woken, she turned to him and waited. If was so late and she was so tired, she could've sworn it was just a dream and maybe this was the only reason she didn't panic when a man she barely knew – and who definitely shouldn't have known where she lived – paid her a visit.

‘Why are you so quiet? You ready?ʼ he asked, playing with a piece of letter paper on her desk as he lit a cigarette.

‘I'm sorry but what the bloody hell are you talking about? You know what time it is?!ʼ

‘Well, if I'm to believe my ability to read the clock, it's four o'clock and I'm taking you out for a coffee, as promised,ʼ he stated in an obvious voice, frowning his brows.

She blinked a few times, unable to find any words to say. There weren't many thoughts in her head, just pure shock and bafflement. She had to look like a bird that just hit a glass door. There he was, with perfect hair and a fancy outfit, a few upper buttons of his shirt unclipped and one stripe of the braces constantly slipping off his skinny shoulder, while she was just wearing her casuals and her hair was in a messy bun. Compared to him, she looked like a tramp.

But yet he was here – which was the weirdest and the most unexpected thing that had ever happened to her – folding different types of paper planes just to see how far they'd fly.

‘I literally—can't believe you.ʼ

‘And I can't believe you're still not ready, how much longer will I have to wait!ʼ he hurried her, his lips twisted in a waggish smile.

She was fighting the thought to just kick him out of her flat and go back to her book. She definitely wasn't used to situations like this one and no one had ever told her what to do when a stranger, who happens to be a famous musician, shows up at your door at this time of the night. All the above reasons and the fact she found it so surreal caused her to get some fresh clothes and go to the bathroom to put them on, not questioning this idea anymore.

She brushed her hair quickly, pushing away this feeling of uncertainty and hesitance and after she got changed, she left the bathroom. He was still sitting by the wooden desk throwing paper planes in the air with one hand, cigarette in the other one. As the bathroom door closed, he stood up and took a longer glance at her.

‘So, shall we?ʼ

She looked around searching for the keys and once she found them, they left her flat. The air outside was refreshing but it was chilly and she immediately regretted not wearing a thicker jumper. It always would take just one warm day for her to completely forget about the existence of the colder ones.

David drew a cigarette from his pack and offered her one as well. She took it and waited for him to light his cigarette so she can borrow a lighter. He handed her the lighter without her even asking for it and as they both filled their lungs with the first puffs of smoke, they started to walk. It was this time of the night when the sky was still dark but the stars weren't visible anymore. Although here, with the London starless sky, you couldn't tell. The silence they were strolling in was occasionally torn by the whistling sound of their footsteps and them breathing the smoke in and out. They passed a building with a corner tower, which used to be a luxury hotel, and went under a railway bridge.

‘So where do you want to find coffee at four in the morning, Mister?ʼ she inquired.

‘Do you think there's no caff open now? Darling, it's London,ʼ he laughed and took her by the arm.

She wanted to talk to him about the fact that they were supposed to go out yesterday, in the afternoon, but she was feeling too diffident to speak out. Maybe he had actually meant four in the morning, when he'd asked her? What else would he be doing here, with her, right now? This was all so bizzare, she didn't even think it was real. She never remembered her dreams, she'd read once that not everyone did have them, but if she did, this situation would definitely be hard to tell from a dream.

The streets were empty but from time to time they heard a loud laughter or yells, especially when they were passing by a pub. They turned into a side-street with only one post light on and suddenly she felt a little scared. Between two skips by the dark brick wall, there were two people talking in quiet voices. As Ellen and David passed by, the suspiciously looking strangers glared at them. She gripped tighter on his arm, not seeing anything wrong in holding onto a man she barely knew. She startled when a group of drunk people jumped off the corner, yelling at each other and fighting. The drunks didn't even pay attention to them, but David put his arm around her in a protective way and turned them back.

‘Brixton isn't the safest place to live in, you know,ʼ he muttered under his breath, throwing out a cigarette butt. ‘It actually passes for a rookery. High crime area. Lots of suspicious folks.ʼ

‘Thanks, they should hire you as an estate agent for this area,ʼ she scoffed, deep inside very frightened.

‘I'm just saying you should be careful. Don't wander around late. So you don't get hurt, you know. It's easy to get into trouble in a place like this.ʼ His voice actually sounded kind of caring, which felt nice and uncomfortable at the same time. Care wasn't a feeling she was used to.

‘You're the one that led us into a drug dealers' alley,ʼ she pointed. ‘But—thanks for the tip, though. I didn't know that.ʼ

David smirked.

‘Only people from London do, actually. So where are you from?ʼ he asked but didn't wait for her answer. ‘Let me guess, Southampton?ʼ

‘I wish,ʼ she said. ‘No, Salisbury. Well, Britford, to be specific.ʼ

‘I used to spend holidays near Southampton,ʼ he told her, his stare drifting away. ‘With my father. Such a lovely spot. There was this huge beach separated with those fences made of tree trunks. Golden sand. The bluest water. Too bad you're not from Southampton, I would love to have a proper reason to go back there.ʼ

Ellen glanced at him and saw a little sad smile on his face. He could go back there anytime, there were no boundaries for a man like him. She believed he'd visited more countries than she would ever know. Yet there was something that didn't allow him that, like he only wanted to live with the memory of this place, afraid to crush it with a new one. Ellen quite often discovered that people have some secrets hidden so deeply inside, that at some point they start fooling everyone, including themselves, with idealised memories. She did that as well. For those reasons she didn't ask anything.

‘Oh, and here we are!ʼ

They stopped in front of a blue wooden door with a neon sign above it. David opened the door and let her go first. The smell of fresh coffee hit her nose. It was warm inside so she immediately liked it. The walls were painted ash-grey and had a lot of plants hanging from them. They sat at the table by the window and he went to place an order. She was sitting in a cosy green and white armchair, pulling her sleeves on her thumbs and observing the street outside. It wasn't until he came back and took a seat opposite her, when she spoke, in a hoarse voice:

‘I like it here. Are we far from my flat? I honestly have no sense of direction.ʼ

‘We're actually two streets away. I led us all the way around to avoid the worst slums,ʼ he explained. ‘I would've fight, you know, if someone had attacked us, but you must know I sometimes struggle to carry my own suitcase upstairs, so that could've been a lost cause,ʼ he leaned to her like he was telling his greatest secret and then laughed quietly. ‘Shit, it's not a proper thing to make a confession of on a date, is it?ʼ

‘If I knew this was a date, I'd wear something to make me look less like a homeless compared to you,ʼ she muttered with raised eyebrows.

‘I think you look enchanting, my dear.ʼ

Her face turned slightly red so she put her head down to hide it. She felt like an idiot with him being so glib and never at a loss of words, while she, on the other hand, was so awkward and withdrawn in social situations. Luckily for her, a waitress just came with two steaming cups carried on a black tray and placed them on their table. She took her cup and smelled it, with her eyes closed. Along with the scent of hot fresh coffee, a subtle scent of vanilla hit her nose.

‘How do you know my coffee order?ʼ

‘Darling, I could smell it for a good couple of hours that day,ʼ he replied, lighting a cigarette.

Ellen felt really hateful towards her blood circulation and paper-thin skin as she blushed again. She sipped her coffee and it immediately woke her taste buds. The feeling of tiredness after the sleepless night washed away, at least for now.

‘Thank you,ʼ she said quietly, smiling at her cup but actually meaning it for him.

He raised his eyebrows with a surprised look.

‘For what?ʼ

‘The coffee. And all,ʼ she shrugged. ‘A nice, though unexpected morning, I guess.ʼ

He sent her a beautiful smile and shook ashes from his cigarette, the smoke surrounding his pale face as he drew on it and breathed out.

‘Okay, drink up!ʼ he hurried her all of the sudden, which made her a little confused.

‘What? But we've just got here, I've barely started—ʼ

‘Come on, let's take a walk. I'm going to show you around!ʼ

At first she frowned like an offended child. She wasn't a big fan of a rush. She also noticed that he hadn't even touched his coffee, which only increased her blankness. But following his command, she made a few more sips of the hot drink and stood up. As he paid for their coffee, regardless of her insisting on paying for herself, he took her by the arm and they left the café.

In her mind this day was so far considered as the craziest and the most unpredictable day of her life and it was only five in the morning.


	6. bending sound

The birds were singing their early morning song as the sun rose in the hazed sky. London was waking up and the streets were full of cars and buses now, as everyone was rushing to work and school. It was much less fun this way, David preferred the world before it wakes up. Silent, cold, empty but comfortable. With the company of only what or who he chose.

‘Tell me your biggest secret, your greatest dream,ʼ he asked in a thrilled voice.

She held onto the ropes of the swing and pushed herself from the ground swinging higher and higher. Her short dark hair flew into her face as she swung back and forth.

‘I want to own a library,ʼ she answered playfully, like a child demanding a dessert.

‘Really? Of all the thing in the world?ʼ he questioned, his brows raised in a slight surprise.

She stopped the swing sharply with her feet, causing the dust to rise up in the air. He scrunched his nose, feeling about to sneeze.

‘Why not?ʼ Ellen sighed with a calm smile, then closed her eyes and quoted: _‘I __declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading. How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library._ʼ

He was sitting on the ground next to the swing, smoking a cigarette, her voice ringing sweetly in his ears. She was one of those people with passion in their eyes, but silence on their lips. David knew nothing of this woman, he had just met her, yet it intrigued him to find out what was on her mind. He wasn't used to quiet people since these days everyone around him was constantly trying to impress or entertain him and she wasn't trying anything. She was just doing her own thing. She was pure and true to herself. And he tried to be true to her as well from the beginning, from the moment he introduced himself with his real name.

‘Pride and Prejudice,ʼ she explained. ‘Do you have any favourite books?ʼ

‘Oh, I have too many!ʼ he let a little laugh, drawing on his cigarette and handing it over to her. To keep his hands occupied, he began picking little white flowers around him. ‘Sometimes I wish to make a list of the best ones but I would feel not reliable at all since I haven't read all the books yet. I find it saddening, you know. That I won't be able to do everything in life. It really—ʼ

‘—makes you question if you're doing the proper things or just wasting away your limited time here?ʼ she finished for him.

David stared at the top of the trees surrounding them and nodded slowly, his fingers wraping the flower stems around each other into a chain.

‘I want to accomplish so much it makes my brain—encircled by this vexing frustration.ʼ

His confession was probably out of place. He never spoke of such things to anyone, because no one could understand that he just wasn't _happy _with what his life was. Yet somehow, she seemed to do. He didn't know how it was even possible, that knowing so many people in the world, she was the first one to understand him. The first one to actually talk with him, not just nod at his words. To make him reflect upon things.

‘You never will,ʼ she said ruthlessly. ‘But that's just life. It's all about following your goals, not actually achieving them. Can you even imagine what will happen if you do it all? Without any more purpose, it would be a disaster, to continue on living!ʼ

The cocaine he'd taken earlier had completely worn off and his mind wasn't so bright and full of thoughts anymore, it felt like there was a few pounds of weight on it now. He would always regret that the cocaine high didn't last longer; it was really annoying to remember to keep himself in a constant drugged state, having to snort at least once every hour. Usually there were only two stages for him: high happiness or sober reality. This time, for a change, with someone to have a proper conversation with, to take his mind off those things, he could almost feel like he didn't need the uppers at all to function properly. Of course, this chat would've been much more pleasant after just one tiny line of coke. He shook off this thought buzzing around his head like an obtrusive fly.

‘You really are something, Ellen Dean,ʼ he admitted weakly but smiling. ‘I don't exactly know what it is, but I'm glad you spilled that coffee on my shirt. Besides, it was a present and I hated it, to be honest.ʼ

The flower chain fell apart in his hands, as it was too loose. Ellen got off the swing and sat next to him. He could smell her hair when she leaned over him and took the flower chain from his hands. She tied it into a crown and put in on her head. Her lips stretched out in a wide grin, making her look like an adorable child. He stood up and took her hand to help her get up. He was tired of this place, there were more and more people passing them and if any of them recognised him, their little walk would turn into a nightmare.

They started walking again, taking less frequented paths of the park they found themselves in. They chatted like old friends and honestly, he just felt good with her. They talked about books and films, she recommended him a few of her favourite philosophy books and he told her about the music she had to check. The morning was nice though chilly, and the wind played a little with their hair.

‘By the way, how do you know Mr Furlong?ʼ she asked curiously.

‘Oh, I used to work for him,ʼ he explained shortly, but her surprised stare caused him to continue: ‘The shop wasn't always here, in Brixton, it's been recently relocated. The business was set up in Bromley, my home town actually. I got my first job there, when I was fourteen maybe. It was where my love for music started, I believe,ʼ he told her with a dreamy smile as the memories of those days came back to him. ‘And working behind the counter at a record shop was a thing back then. It really had an effect on the girls and I liked that, to be honest. But I also enjoyed introducing people to different music genres when they were coming there for new recommendations. I was good at it. I know it's not a modest thing to say, but I really was.ʼ

‘Mr Furlong must've hated it when you quitted,ʼ she guessed.

David chuckled, putting both of his hands into his pockets to draw out cigarettes and a lighter.

‘Quitted? I got sacked. For being too much of a daydreamer and chatting with the customers too long. But by that time I already had different plans. Different ways to introduce people to new genres. So Vic and I became friends, I never held a grudge, he was absolutely right about sacking me.ʼ

‘You said you were good at it,ʼ she pointed out, completely confused at this point.

‘I was good at my job but I was a terrible worker. I would always be late and neglect my duties and I didn't really care about anything but the girls and the music—ʼ

Ellen's footsteps silenced as she stopped suddenly. He turned back and saw her frightened face.

‘Hold on, w-what time is it?ʼ she asked.

‘Half past ten, why?ʼ

The tension on her face didn't disappear so she covered it with her hands and let out a little cry.

‘I have to be at work in thirty minutes!ʼ she shouted in dispair and looked around, her feet jiggering like she wanted to run but didn't know the right direction.

He approached her and put his hands on her shoulders to calm her, amused by the significant difference between their attitudes. She was such a diligent person.

‘Calm down, darling!ʼ he laughed and held her until she lifted her worried eyes to him. ‘We will be there in less than twenty. Just follow me. And give me back my lighter, I need a fag.ʼ

They didn't make it in twenty minutes. That was impossible and he'd known it all along. The walk back to Brixton actually took them almost an hour. Near the end, it was really hard to fool Ellen that they'd only been walking for fifteen minutes. She didn't question it though, probably just wanted to believe it was truth. After they finally reached the Furlong & Sons record shop, Mr Furlong was already there, standing in front of the closed door, smoking his pipe. Ellen passed him and rushed to meet her boss.

‘Mr Furlong, I am so sorry! I didn't realise it was this late, I promise this was the last time, I just—ʼ

‘I apologise, Vic,ʼ David cut in. ‘I have borrowed your dear employee for a little too long. I hope she don't get in trouble because of that.ʼ He gave Mr Furlong the most polite and charming smile.

Mr Furlong blinked a few times, knitting his brows. He didn't mention a word about being visited and asked for Ellen's address in the middle of the night and David was grateful to this old man for not making him look like a complete lunatic.

‘It's alright, David, my boy. And you, Ellen, don't worry,ʼ he smiled at her, making her visibly relieved. ‘It happens. Just open the shop and fill in those papers on the counter, please.ʼ

As they all went inside the shop, Mr Furlong approached his showcase to choose a vinyl to play. David stood in the door, struggling with reluctance to leave.

‘Thank you,ʼ Ellen mouthed to him.

He gave a theatrical bow and waved, with a mischievous grin. Seeing them both being quite busy with their work, he finally decided to bid goodbye to them.

‘It was a really pleasurable morning with you. I'll see you around, I hope?ʼ he ensured, shaking her small hand in a friendly gesture.

‘You know where to find me.ʼ Her eyes, blue just like his own, but in a completely different way, sparkled when she stared at him.

He let go of her hand, waved to Victor and left the shop. It was really cold now, the weather had turned into a typical British one and it could start raining any minute. He lit a cigarette and walked to the nearest taxi rank, his heart fluttering at the thought of today's morning. The feeling inside him was similiar to the one he would have after reading a few pages of a new book that already promised a great story. He hadn't been so spiritually fed for a very long.

Everything good that had so far happened this day was burned to ashes and disappeared into oblivion after he entered his own house.

‘Where the hell have you been?ʼ he was welcomed by a thick American accent which belonged to a tall blonde woman in the hall. ‘We came in the middle of the fucking night and the house was empty!ʼ

‘Nice to see you too, Angie,ʼ he just muttered in a resigned voice, taking off his coat and hanging it on the rack.

Then another voice appeared, much less irritating. A voice he was genuinely happy to hear. And with that voice, a small person ran straight into his arms.

‘Daddy—!ʼ

‘Hey there, handsome,ʼ David greeted his son, ruffling his golden hair. ‘How was it at your grandpa's?ʼ

‘I saw a stoned lady!ʼ he exclaimed with great excitement, causing David to knit his brows.

‘He means the Statue of Liberty,ʼ Angie rolled her eyes, her arms crossed.

David let a laugh and carrying his son to the living room, he explained to him: ‘Oh, a _stone _lady! She's not made of stone, you know? She's made of steel, wood and copper.ʼ

‘Are the policemen made of copper, too?ʼ

‘Duncan, honey, come on, let's put you to bed, you haven't slept the whole night,ʼ Angela cut in again and took him from David's arms.

‘But I'm not tired, I want to stay and talk with dad,ʼ the child protested, though his eyes were teary with sleep.

‘We'll both talk with him, later, let's go now,ʼ she said toughly, and while they were both going up the stairs, she gave David the glare he had seen too many times before.

David waves to his son and sighed before heading to his room smoking his last cigarette. It was only the noon and he had already smoked two packs today.


	7. dredging the ocean

It had been a very uneventful day. Saturday turned out not to be people's favourite day to visit a music shop, which surprised Ellen a little. There were still a lot unpacking to do since, according to what she was told, the shop had been recently relocated here, and with the unpacking came the cleaning so she could complain about being bored. During those tasks she could also listen to some records recommended to her by David. First thing she put on was The Velvet Underground. Mr Furlong wasn't very keen on this kind of music, obviously preferring those calming soul sounds but he didn't mind her discovering new genres. After all, she was working in his music shop, it was important that she knew what she sold to others. As Lou Reed's voice was filling the room, her stomach was filled with a doze of excitement. It was so fresh and new, compared to the classical music she had grown up with, but she liked it, she really did. And the fact it was endorsed by such an astonishing man he was, made her even more delighted.

On this day her shift ended earlier, due to the lack of tasks to do, so she was home by six. As she entered the house, she was greeted by Mrs Joyce, who was just about to leave.

‘Hello, my dear! How are you?ʼ

‘Good, you?ʼ she replied automatically.

‘I'm going to do some shopping,ʼ Mrs Joyce informed her. ‘If you need anything, I can buy it for you.ʼ

It was so nice of her, Ellen felt comfortable warmth inside. She smiled at her landlady.

‘Thank you, I think I'm good.ʼ Before she headed to her flat, she turned to Mrs Joyce again, biting her lower lip, and asked: ‘I have a question though. Can I use the phone in my room?ʼ

Mrs Joyce looked at her in surprise and let out a little chuckle.

‘Of course, sweetie. That's why a phone is for, isn't it?ʼ

‘Thank you, ma'am! Have a nice day,ʼ said Ellen happily, waving her goodbye.

While climbing the stairs, she rummaged through her rucksack in order to find the keys and she noticed the flower crown stuck inside. She unlocked the door without looking at it and walked inside. The flower crown was loosen but still in one piece, so she carefully pulled it out and gave it a longer look. Her stomach was filled with weirdly nice tickles as she was thinking of this unusual morning and a wide beam didn't want to leave her face. She placed the flower crown between pages of the _Wuthering heights _and put it on a shelf, weighing it down with some other books that she found here.

Finishing work earlier actually suited her, because in that she finally had some time to do some sightseeing. David had showed her over Brixton, but there were still many places to explore in this city. At least that was the plan.

It wasn't her best quality, but every time she started to feel good about something, the guilt followed her almost instantly. While taking a shower, she thought about her family and how she had left them without a word. She should've said something, left a note or any sign of the fully conscious decision she'd made. With a towel wrapped around her body, drops of water falling from her hair onto her skin, she sat on the bed and put her hand on a phone receiver. She hesitated, not sure if she was making the right move but eventually picked it up and dialled a number.

‘Hello?ʼ

‘Hi, Ryan,ʼ she muttered weakly. ‘It's me.ʼ

There was a second of dead silence, followed by a gasp.

‘Ellen?! Oh, thank God! What's going on, where are you?ʼ

She played with a telephone flex, stretching it and letting go so it returns to its original shape.

‘I, um—I'm fine. Listen, I'm just calling to let you know I'm alright. I—ʼ she stuttered. ‘How are you? How are, er, things at home?ʼ

Her heart was beating slowly but heavily with every word leaving her lips. She couldn't say if her hands were wet because of the shower she had just taken or because of the sweat.

‘It's, you know, same old, same old,ʼ Ryan said hoarsely. He had always been a terrible liar and it hurt her even more to be aware of it. ‘Why did you leave without saying anything? We were worrying sick! Mother will be so happy to hear tha—ʼ

‘No!ʼ she squeaked, then cleared her throat and added in a normal voice: ‘Please, don't tell anyone.ʼ

‘What? Why?ʼ Ryan sounded very confused with her begging.

‘Just—please.ʼ

‘El, she's losing her mind, she has already tried to report you as a missing person, but the police said that there are no evidence that you didn't leave willingly and—ʼ

‘I don't want to come back, Ryan. I can't so this anymore,ʼ she stammered out, her eyes started to water with tears. ‘I just wanted you to know I'm alive and okay.ʼ

There was a long but quiet sigh on the other side.

‘Alright. I won't tell anyone. But please, at least tell me where you are.ʼ

‘I—ʼ she hesitated, unsure if she could trust him. But he was her brother, the only person she could actually trust. ‘I'm in London. Got a job, rented a room. I needed to get away. Please, you have to understand me.ʼ

It was a tough conversation and the stress was overwhelming her. She never wanted to blame any of her brothers for not being around – after all Ryan had started a family and moved to his new house, only a street away. Harold, on the other hand, had left for Germany and she hadn't heard from him for over a year. It had never been their obligation to stay in that house forever. But they weren't there anymore. They didn't have to hear the screams and fights everyday. She had been the only one of all three siblings that had no excuse nor other place to go. And it had almost killed her.

‘It's—I do. Of course I do,ʼ he grunted, finally giving up. ‘I'm not your enemy, you know.ʼ

‘I know,ʼ she whimpered, shutting her eyelids.

‘I'm happy that you called me. You're my little sister and I love you,ʼ he confessed. It was a rare thing to hear from him, which made it even more meaningful. ‘Listen, I have to go now, I promised Jack to take him to the beach, but—can I call you on this number later?ʼ

‘Of course,ʼ she smiled.

‘Good. Take care, El,ʼ he said before hanging out.

She put down the receiver but didn't move, just thinking about all of this. She felt relief after talking to him. It was good to hear his voice and to know he wasn't mad at her for leaving. Ever since he'd moved out, he'd always been supportive to her, even though it could just be caused by the feeling of guilt. Now that she'd run away, the guilt was her burden. Remembering all those nasty things that had happened to her, she couldn't even force herself to regret it.

She let out a heavy sigh and searched pockets of her jacket for a pack of Embassy cigarettes. The fire of the lighter emblazed the tip of her cigarette. She took a puff and placed it on the edge of a silver ashtray, so she could get dressed. The sightseeing wasn't going to happen today but she could at least go for a walk and read a book. She needed to go outside and do something.

★

It started to rain. He was sitting by the big window in the kitchen, a cigarette held between his two fingers, watching dark clouds covering the sky, when the downpour started. It was such a relieving feeling. It had been definitely too hot and close last few days. He liked sunny weather, he did, but there was something inspiring in the way raindrops crashed onto the glass window and flowed down, leaving watery traces and meeting halfway. It wasn't his thing to go outside and walk in the pouring rain, he didn't particularly enjoy the feeling of wet clothes sticking to his body. But watching the world in the April shower, smelling the dust rose up in the air by the raindrops hitting the ground, it was all just unbelievably mesmerising. He almost felt inspired to write something or create a new piece of music, as the raindrops drummed the beat on the window, but as the thought of going to get the guitar appeared in his head, his wife appeared in the kitchen.

‘David, can we talk now?ʼ

‘You tell me, since apparently you're in charge of whether we can or can not talk, aren't you?ʼ he snapped irritated, his eyes still focused on the window.

‘What, the hell, is your problem?ʼ

He glanced at her involuntary as she sat next to him, her arms crossed and her face twitched in a grimace.

‘My problem?ʼ he raised his brows in disbelief. ‘As far as I'm concerned, you were the one to welcome me in such a lovely way this morning.ʼ

Angie scoffed but didn't say anything at first, so he foolishly believed that was the end of the discussion. But it was only the begining.

He genuinely had no idea what they were fighting over this time. First thing that came into his mind was of course his morning meeting with this girl Ellen. He instantly pushed that thought away, because his wife had never had a problem with any other women (or men) in his life, they had a rather open relationship. Besides, he and Ellen had met simply as friends. So no, it couldn't be about her. Although, he couldn't deny that she had already left her significant trace in his mind.

‘Maybe if you cared about me a little more, everything would be different.ʼ

‘Of course, because it's always my fault. _I_ am the one making _you_ miserable!ʼ David bridled, reaching the limits of his patience.

‘Yes, because you've changed and you don't give a fuck about our marriage anymore!ʼ she cried.

‘Like you ever have!ʼ

They were glaring at each other, both full of spite and anger. The tension between them rose too close to the line. He wanted to scream out to release the emotions boiling inside him but at the back of his head there was still the awareness of Duncan sleeping upstairs. He never wanted his son to be a part of this sick relation. Looking in her furious eyes, he felt pure aversion. There was the woman he had once loved with his whole heart and he couldn't feel anything but aversion and fury.

‘I hate your guts,ʼ she hissed, almost like reading his mind, her face so close to his now that their foreheads were almost touching.

He didn't even know how and when exactly this happened, but the next moment their lips were just pressed against each other's and his hands were wandering under her shirt searching for the bra clasp as she wrapped her long legs around his waist. He stood up and carried her to the sofa, kissing and biting her neck with this furious passion. He didn't want to do this, he never wanted to make up with her this way but somehow every fight would always end up like this.

As they finally collapsed on the couch, completely naked next to each other, panting and gasping heavily, he felt nothing but disgust and hatred towards himself now. He got to his feet and reached for a pack of cigarettes on the coffee table. Taking one and lighting it, he put on his dressing gown and left the room without a word, leaving the clouds of smoke behind him. He walked into his little library, the place he usually worked in and sat at his desk biting his knuckles, his eyelids shut. He poured himself some whisky and opened first too drawer to find a metal box with white powder inside. His sweet, salutary escape. The promise of every concern fading away soon was irresistible.

Maybe some day he would get rid off all those concerns for good but right now this was the only thing he could do. Or maybe this was the only thing he would ever be able to do with them.

But honestly, to hell with that.


	8. lost in my circle

‘You're still not ready?ʼ

David didn't even feel like shouting now, he was just bored with this atmosphere. Sitting still at his desk, he plastered his stare onto the trees behind the window. The leaves were dancing with the wind impetuously and the sky was still grey, though the rain had stopped for now.

‘Ready for what?ʼ he muttered lazily, his voice sounding dull and his eyes half-closed as he breathed out smoke.

‘We're going to a Zandra Rhodes's birthday party today,ʼ Angela scoffed. ‘Get your ass up, Janet will be here any minute now to watch over Zowie.ʼ

He blinked a few times, remembering her talking about this party last week. The thought of going there and seeing all those puffy snoobs in fussy clothes made him sick to his stomach.

‘I'm not going anywhere,ʼ he withstood harshly.

‘Yes, you are. What would it look like if I go alone to a banquet, without my _husband_?ʼ she grunted, emphasising the last word.

David sighed with resignation. Without saying anything he put out the cigarette and walked to the door.

‘Just wear that blue bow tie I got you for Christmas, so it suits my dress,ʼ she commanded sweetly.

He rolled his eyes and went through their bedroom to a walk-in wardrobe.

The house of Zandra Rhodes was enormous and just as quirky as Zandra Rhodes herself. The interiors were designed in art déco but there were colourful accessories added here and there. The guests were all from the London fashion world. They were opening their mouths and words were coming out of them but it all sounded like meaningless rubbish. David didn't know half of them or maybe he just couldn't remember their names nor faces. It was all blurry to him as he was seeing everything through roily glass of whisky in his hand.

‘Honey, you know Sylvie Vartan? She's a good friend of Yves,ʼ Angela yattered, dragging him to a tall blonde woman in her thirties.

The woman stretched her hand expecting him to kiss it and so he did, introducing himself politely. She was a beautiful woman with sharp cheekbones and deep brown eyes. She fluttered her thick eyelashes at him.

‘It's ve'y nice to finally meet the famous 'usband of Angie,ʼ Sylvie spoke in her French accent.

Angela took a glass of Sylvie's hand and gave it to David, alongside with her own one, saying: ‘Would you get us some Martini? Women shouldn't just stand with their glasses empty.ʼ

At first he sent her a discreet glare but then he just put on his mask of good manners and said: ‘Of course, love. _Vous m'excusez une minute, mesdames?ʼ_

Both women giggled in a classy way.

‘He's such a show-off!ʼ Angela commented playfully, tapping gently on his shoulder.

‘I think he's 'ather a cha'ming gentleman!ʼ

David smiled at them and left them standing there in order to find a bar counter. As he was walking through the big ball room, a few people called his name to chat but he would squirrel out of it, pointing at the empty glasses in his hand.

‘Two martinis, please. Straight up,ʼ he said to the waitress in a white suit as he stopped by the counter.

He took one cigarette and put it between his lips, lighting it with a match, as he waited for the drinks to be ready. Once they were, he came back to his wife and her friend to see they were joined by a bearded man in a tuxedo.

‘—and you 'ave to visit us in Paris!ʼ Sylvie exclaimed, her hands lying on Angela's.

‘We will, just, you know, my husband is quite busy now with his new album, or at least that's what he's telling me. Right, honey?ʼ Angela turned her face to him, as he handed the ladies their drinks and collect his own glass from a tall cocktail table near them.

‘You know I have work, my dear,ʼ he explained gritting his teeth, but covering it up with another polite smile.

‘He's always anywhere but home and I'm stuck with our Zowie boy,ʼ she complained with a smile, that only he could know was fake. ‘We don't mind meeting other people, we are a modern marriage, but sometimes I wish he spend more time with me.ʼ

She took him by his arm and glanced at him with amusement, behind this mask it was just venom and hurt.

He didn't understand why she was talking about him as he wasn't there but what really annoyed him, was the way she always blathered about their private matters in public. He would keep his mouth shut about that, not wanting any headlines in tabloids invading their privacy, but she never cared about privacy. All she ever sought for was publicity. This was why they had done that photoshoot in their house, in Haddon Hall. This was the reason why the press had photos of them going fishing with their son. And he was so tired of it all. He just craved for some peace of mind. He couldn't spend any minute longer in this place, because otherwise he would just explode.

‘Excuse me,ʼ he said as courteously as he could and turning his back at them he walked away.

Passing by all those distinguished dresses and sounds of posh talks, he felt an unbearable headache. It was all so fake, so unreal, he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

The porter boy handed him his coat, so he put it on and wore a hat to cover his face. He didn't want anyone to stop him and ask questions. He got in a taxi parked on the driveway and lit another cigarette, hoping to put this evening in the past as soon as possible. He just wanted to get a normal drink in a normal pub, not surrounded by those wax figures that used to be human beings.

★

The rest of the day passed by, as she was wandering around parks and streets of London. She did some shopping, since the only things she had brought with her were placed in one rucksack, buying, among others, an umbrella, as she got caught out in the terrible rain. On her way back home, she came across a pub. It was nearby her street, so she folded her new umbrella and stepped inside, nudged by the need of a drink after today's call with her brother and the feeling of guilt following it. There were billows of smoke inside, the music was quiet and it was almost empty – there were only three tables occupied. The walls were decorated with posters from all kinds of movies and band tours, glowing in a dim green light and there was a big neon Smirnoff advert between two shelves of alcohol bottles. She walked to the counter and a tall tattooed man welcomed her:

‘What can I get you, luv?ʼ

‘A glass of white wine, please,ʼ she ordered, sitting on a barstool and looking around the place.

She was surprised by the small amount of people inside, it was Saturday after all.

‘Shouldn't this place be full at this hour?ʼ she asked curiously, when the barman put a wine glass in front of her.

‘There's a big fight tonight, haven't you heard?ʼ he laughed and she noticed he was missing his lower canine tooth. Despite this, he looked rather handsome, with his dark ruffled hair and green eyes. ‘They will all come in an hour so if you're not looking for any trouble, you better not be here by then.ʼ

‘A fight?ʼ she inquired, ignoring his advice.

The barman wiped the counter with a piece of clothe and took off a few empty beer glasses that were standing there.

‘A boxing fight?ʼ he raised one eyebrow and smirked. ‘Alright, girl, I can tell you're not from here. This is one of the locals' favourite entertainment and if I had a telly in here, I bet you wouldn't be able to squeeze by that crowd.ʼ

‘And you don't have one?ʼ

‘Do you see any crowds here?ʼ he replied.

She raised her glass to lips and took a sip. The wine left a sour taste in her mouth but it was chilled, just as it should be. She drew a cigarette from her pack and used a zippo lighter, found in a pocket of her jeans, to light it. As the smoke filled her lungs, the nicotine soothed her nerves, she gave another look to the lighter, as it surely didn't belong to her. A smile crawled upon her lips. She hid it in her pocket to prevent herself from losing it, and looked around the pub. It wasn't a nice, family-friendly kind of place, but she liked it. It matched her mood. Sitting like this, drinking wine and smoking, she got a little lost in her thoughts.

It was all supposed to be much easier to bear than it actually was. She'd been so sure that once she ran away, she'd never even think about her family, but it turned out to be the other way round. Her body had escaped but her mind was still trapped in those four walls. All she had ever wanted was to have a normal life, to get a job she likes, fall in love, go to church on Sunday without desperate prayers, maybe travel around Europe a little. She was a good person and she wanted to live like one. But all of the feelings towards her father made her soul keep rotting from the inside. She wanted to forget, because it was all gone now, she was far away and no one could hurt her. But her mother was still there and even though Ryan lived nearby, he couldn't stop their father from hurting her, let alone prevent it.

She let out a sigh. It became late, the clock above the counter pointed midnight, as more and more people started to come inside the pub. They were all laughing and shouting loudly, smelling like sweat and cheap perfumes. She stood up and put her money on the counter, thanking the barman.

‘Be safe, luv,ʼ he told her, pointing his finger at her.

She nodded, putting her rucksack on and she went to the exit. There was a group of people standing outside the pub, which made her feel a little anxious. She tried to slink by unnoticed but one of them stopped her with a shout:

‘Hey, lady, where are you going?ʼ

She felt a tight grip on her arm, so she turned her head to the stranger holding it.

‘Let go of me. It hurts,ʼ she mumbled under her breath, but her voice didn't even broke through the loud noises.

The man nailed her to the wall, the rest of his friends howling and cheering. She felt an odour of strong alcohol and cigarettes from his mouth as he leaned over her. The heart inside her chest was pumping so hard as it wanted to escape it almost as desperately as she wanted to escape him.

‘Come on, you wouldn't come here tonight if you weren't looking for some fun,ʼ he laughed.

Her vision became blurry as tears filled her eyes. She was squirming and kicking, but it only made his grasp tighter.

‘Please, let me go—ʼ she whimpered weakly.

The smelly breath of his felt warm on her face and filled her with disgust.

‘Just leave her, mate. Let's just have a beer and go home,ʼ she heard someone say. ‘It's not funny—ʼ

The man's face twisted as but he held her for another moment before smirking and releasing the grasp. She took the opportunity and tore loose. Without giving any second to look back, she fixed her bag on her shoulder and started to run. They didn't follow her but she didn't stop anyway. At some point she thought she heard someone calling her by name, which scared her even more, so she kept running and running, until she couldn't catch a breath. She reached a crossroad and it looked familiar enough for her to pinpoint her direction home. She stopped there though and leaned against a wall, panting heavily, when suddenly someone put their hand on her arm. She screamed and jumped off.

‘It's alright, Ellen! Easy, it's just me.ʼ

She saw a pair of unmatching blue eyes staring at her in worry. The awareness he was here with her now felt almost calming, but it didn't calmed her heart as it was still pumping furiously in her chest.

‘D-david?ʼ she gasped, her voice shaking. She would never expect to see him here tonight. ‘What are you doing here?ʼ

‘I told you not to wander around,ʼ he snapped and more tears flowed down onto her cheeks.

His face instantly eased. He put his arms around her carefully, stroking her hair. She breathed into his coat trying to calm herself down. The tears were still running down her face but she couldn't do anything about it. Every second within his embrace made her feel a little better. He smelled really nice and it was so soothing. She felt safe.

‘Darling, it's alright, shh,ʼ he murmured, sticking nose in her hair. ‘Just tell me what happened.ʼ

‘Nothing, just—ʼ her lower lip quivered a little, ‘—I was at the pub and when I walked outside, there was this man and he wanted to—I'm sorry, I shouldn't panic like this, I just, I was—ʼ

Ellen felt that her eyes were watering and she didn't want to start crying again, not now when she just calmed herself. Talking to him about the reason _why _she overreacted like this, didn't seem to be a good idea either. But David didn't pressed on her. He just hugged her and caressed her shoulder, letting her take as much time as she needed to shake out.

‘Alright, let's get you home now, okay?ʼ

She nodded silently and let him lead her to her flat.

The scenes of what had happened outside the bar were flashing in front of her eyes over and over again. She had felt so helpless and so vulnerable that it'd given her chest pains, made her fight for every breath. She fluttered her eyes closed and sighed.

‘Can I have a cigarette, please?ʼ she breathed shyly.

‘Huh? Of course, darling.ʼ He searched through his pockets for a red and white paperboard pack and treated her with a cigarette, taking one for himself as well.

‘I, er—I have your lighter.ʼ

An adorable smile crawled upon his face, showing his cheek dimples. ‘I know you do.ʼ


	9. here am i

They passed Mr Furlong's shop, with dim lights in the display window, and stopped in front of the door to the building she lived in. It was dark, as the night had taken over the city, but a street lamp shone onto them, reflecting in his red hair, highlighting its warm colour. She pulled the keys from her bag, but when she tried to fit it in the door lock, her shaking hands made it impossible to do it. She felt cold fingers on her skin, when David reached for the keys and unlocked the door for her.

‘W-would you like to come in?ʼ she stuttered, putting out her cigarette with her shoe.

Her invitation clearly surprised him and at first she saw that he wasn't very convinced, but when he looked at her, the uncertainty on his face turned into a soft smile. He opened the door and because of the fact he was still holding the knob, she found herself between him and the wooden door, facing him. He was about five inches taller, so staring into her eyes, his eyelids were half closed. Her heart fluttered.

‘Only if you want me to.ʼ

She nodded and bent to pass under his arm and lead their way upstairs. Her flat was in a total mess and she felt embarrassed for leaving it this way. She quickly grabbed the clothes lying on her bed to make some space to sit. With the clothes in one hand, she took a towel hung on the chair with the other one and threw everything in a laundry basket in the corner of the room. On the floor there were still some of the paper planes David made this morning. She picked them up and placed them on her desk, alongside all the torn pieces of letter paper he left there. As she moved to put some books back on the shelf, David stopped her, laying his hands on hers.

‘Just leave it, you need to calm down, darling. You are safe now, I promise,ʼ he told her, looking at her with concern, a small wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows.

Only then had she realised she was still trembling with panic and anxiety, and her brain was slightly dizzy because of the wine she had earlier in the pub. He walked her to the bed and sat her down, before taking a seat on a chair opposite her.

‘I'm sorry—I'm sorry,ʼ she muttered like a broken record, having more words to say but not being able to go on.

Finally having rested, she exhaled the air from her lungs. David didn't let her out of his sight and handed her a cigarette.

‘Thank you,ʼ she said, her voice breaking a little.

★

She was avoiding his eyes, as if she feared he would see right through her. Truth to be told, he couldn't read her at all. He never had problems with reading other's intentions or emotions, but she was an extremely difficult puzzle. Her pale skin was slightly blushed, yet he couldn't tell if it was shame, shyness or just the alcohol she had drunk. Either way, seeing her like this worried him. She was such a kind, innocent person and the panic in her eyes made her look like a frightened, hurt animal.

They were both sitting there, just smoking cigarettes in silence. A thick smoke was the only thing coming from her mouth, as she didn't say anything and so he kept quiet as well. He wasn't sure if she still wanted him here or should he just leave, but after all she was the one who invited him in and he hoped she would tell him honestly when he should go.

He finished his cigarette and left the butt in an ashtray.

‘I will make you some tea, okay?ʼ he offered, standing up. ‘My mother always said that tea is good for everything,ʼ he mimicked her sophisticated tone.

Ellen got on her feet immediately and shook her head.

‘No, no,ʼ she objected and moved towards the kitchenette to put the kettle on, ‘I should be the one offering you some tea! I'm sorry, I'm such a bad hostess.ʼ

‘Oh, I don't drink tea,ʼ he briefed, causing her to twist her head in a pure bewilderment.

‘What? Of all British people, I thought you're the Britishest and now I find out you're an anarchist?!ʼ

He laughed loudly at her words, ‘I'm not an anarchist! I'm just not a tea kind of person.ʼ

‘What kind of person are you then?ʼ

‘A whisky and ice one,ʼ he answered without batting an eyelid.

‘I only have bourbon.ʼ She pulled out an unopened bottle of alcohol of her rucksack and waved it, her eyebrow raised.

He leaned on the back of the chair nonchalantly, smacking his lips.

‘And you dare to call _me_ an anarchist!ʼ

She shrugged innocently and turned her face to the cupboard to get two glasses out of it. ‘Well, you know whatʼ—she clicked the kettle off—‘fuck the tea.ʼ David let out a theatrical gasp, covering his mouth, which caused her to snigger. ‘I could do with a drink, too.ʼ

She opened the bottle and having poured the golden liquid into the glasses, handed him the drink. He was impressed with her attitude. It changed so quickly from being devastated to just carelessly drinking away problems. He liked it and hated it at the same time, because it reminded him too much of himself. Yet, that was one of the reasons he could feel the connection between them.

He took a large sip out of his glass and winced. It was neat and it tasted a bit like the moonshine he had once found with his brother in their grandfather's cellar. But he would drink anything right now, especially when remembering that pathetic banquet he had just left.

He was sitting by the desk, just like this morning, and he glanced at the paper planes lying on top. Amongst them, there were also some torn pieces of letter paper and one rolled up piece. Fuck, he couldn't believe he'd been so reckless to just leave it here like this. He grabbed it inconspicuously and crumpled it up.

‘So what are you doing in London?ʼ he threw in casually, setting his glass aside. ‘What brought you here?ʼ

‘Running away, to be honest.ʼ She sat back on her bed and hugged knees to her chest, her eyes fixed on a wall, like it had an uniquely fascinating painting on it, instead of just faded blue wallpaper.

‘Running away from—?ʼ he inquired.

‘Can I trust you?ʼ she asked suddenly, raising her stare to him. Her face was hesitant and serious.

‘I think you're the one to should know the answer.ʼ

Ellen didn't say anything on that. Instead she turned around on the bed and having laid down, she straightened up her legs and crossed them at her ankles, her toes touching the wall now. She played with the glass for a while, before speaking up:

‘Have you ever wished to run away, because you knew it was good for you and your mental health, yet at the same time you felt guilty to leave behind someone you love? Someone you care for?ʼ She stopped to sip on her drink and pinched the bridge of her nose nervously. ‘My whole life I feared to burn any bridges, even though I didn't want to be on that side of the bridge anymore. But it was this way or no way, you see. And I've finally done that. I've run-But somehow it doesn't feel any better and it's killing me.ʼ

David kept quiet. He was gazing at her intensively as if looking for any clue to help him understand specifically what she meant. Because he knew that feeling. He knew it too well, everyday he felt the exact same way about his wife and their child. He would have left years ago, but he just couldn't, for his son's sake. And it was so unreal to hear those words from anyone else's mouth, because it was like someone read his own thoughts to him. Except she didn't. She harboured no suspicions of what was going on in his private life. And it only intrigued him more.

‘You shouldn't feel bad,ʼ he told her with a sigh. ‘There's only one life to live, you know. And if you give it away for someone else's sake, you won't be able to take it back. There's a time for being a selfless altruist and there's a time for caring about your own sanity.ʼ

He wanted to believe it himself just as much as he wanted her to believe it.

‘Maybe you're right—But still I can't help thinking otherwise.ʼ She breathed out smoke and ran her fingers through her black hair, noticeably tired with battling with her own thoughts. ‘Anyway, what are you doing in Brixton at this hour?ʼ

‘Running away, to be honest,ʼ he admitted truthfully, repeating her own words.

The whole situation suddenly seemed absurd and they both cracked up with laugh, in no way caused by amusement. He put a cigarette between his lips and played with a lighter, while observing her moves.

She tilted her head, staring into a roof window above her bed. He wanted to see what caught her eye up there, so having lit the cigarette, he laid down on the bed, in the direction opposite to her, with his legs dangling off the end of the bed. As he rested his head next to hers, having her hair tickling on his neck and shoulder, her muscles tightened up for a moment before returning to their original state. He fixed his gaze upon the sky. The window pane was showing their faded reflection, but beyond it he could see darkness and thin clouds.

‘Aren't there any stars on the London sky?ʼ Ellen wondered out loud. ‘I wish there were stars—ʼ

‘I will show you the most amazing spot to observe stars, if you allow me,ʼ he promised.

She took a cigarette from his fingers and drew on it, her face in the reflection beaming a little with joy.

He was fighting the urge to ask about her past. He could tell by her distrustfulness and cautioness, that she had been hurt and his own curiosity mixed with genuine concern about her, made him wanted to simply know what had happened. But it would be awful of him to pry into her personal life, so he bit his tongue and kept looking at the dark sky.

He could hear her breathing in and out calmly. Suddenly her breaths became uneven and shallow, though she tried to hide it. Without moving his head, he reached his hand and touched her cheek to find tears on it. It was strange and honestly he didn't know what to do, so he just took her hand and squeezed gently it to let her know he was right here.

‘I hope it doesn't sound stupid, but could you, er—sing for me?ʼ she asked timidly, her voice cracking a little.

David chuckled, because surprisingly, he didn't hear this request very often. And when he did, he would rather deny it. But in this case he really didn't mind. It was just the two of them, alone, both kind of broken and both kind of comforting each other. So with half-shut eyes, he started humming the first melody that came into his mind.

_‘__Are the stars out _tonightʼ—he crooned quietly—_‘__I don't know if it's cloudy or bright, I only have eyes for you, dear—ʼ_

She smiled and, despite the tears filling her eyes, it made her face look incredibly pretty. He sang on, while her fingers were unknowingly playing with strands of his hair, skimming his jawline and neck from time to time. As the song ended, despite him repeating the chorus a few more times, he turned his head to face her and she did the same, which caused their noses to collide. He tilted his head back with a little laugh. They were gazing in each others eyes and he could swear he got completely lost in this pure blue stare, but hell, he didn't rush to get out.

‘You make me feel like a real person,ʼ he murmured.

‘Aren't you real?ʼ she cracked a smile, knitting her eyebrows in an endearing way.

‘I don't know that anymore.ʼ

Maybe it was that awful bourbon in his veins, he could never tell whether something was a sober thought or not, but as he slipped his stare down to her slightly open lips, which were located on his eye level, his heart stopped for a moment. For some reason, he felt that breathing was out of line, like he was facing an astonishing ice sculpture and even the lightest blow of warm air could destroy it.

‘You must think I'm quite crazy.ʼ

‘I don't, actually,ʼ she muttered, her eyes fluttered closed.

‘And that worries me a little,ʼ he breathed into her mouth before pressing his lips against hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did anyone order quattro formaggi bc that was the cheesiest thing i've ever written


	10. flashing no colour

Time has stopped to revolve around these few seconds and it felt like a whole eternity. His lips were cold as ice, yet it burnt her from the inside like a match thrown into a gasoline tank. She could feel fire in her veins boiling her blood and she could swear her heart was about to escape from her chest any minute. At first it was a brief kiss, just as if it was an accidental touch, though none of them backed out. It was so subtle, it felt like a mild wind on her lips. Although common sense told her to stop this, it was impossible to listen to it with his fingers running through her hair and her hands on the back of his neck. He glided his tongue against her lips, causing her to shiver, so she parted her mouth a little to let it inside and he immediately deepened the kiss. He took the glass from her hand and put it down on the floor. As the fingers of his left hand were still tangled in her hair, he put the other one around her waist to pull her closer and rolled on top of her, leaning his body on one elbow. It was like they had never done this with anyone before. And she kind of felt like it was her first kiss ever, for it was so intense that everything she had experienced before seemed to be irrelevant. He run his fingers down her body and having found the hem of her shirt, he skimmed his cold hand under it. But suddenly he stopped. He pulled back, gently moving their lips apart and sat up.

The feeling of disappointment and rejection flooded her like a bucket of icy water. As he looked down at her, she blinked a few times, her breath so shallow it was almost undetectable. Inside her mind there was nothingness, like every thought had escaped it in fear of every possible consequence. His pale blue eyes were hungry and he was panting with emotions, just as she was, but they didn't move any closer to each other.

‘I am sorry, I don't think we—ʼ he mumbled, dropping his gaze.

‘I understand,ʼ she interrupted with no resentment and sat up, fixing her clothes.

And she did. Although she knew nothing of his life and career, the awareness of him being a famous person, from a big world of celebrities, tours and TV interviews, made her feel small and unimportant. She was just one of many others. Always just a dull, grey face in a crowd. Why would he want to even know her?

‘No, you don't. You surely do not understand a thing,ʼ he sighed.

Ellen bit her lower lip and smiled, not knowing what to say. She wasn't attractive, never thought that she was and she understood he considered their kiss as a mistake. Maybe it was a mistake but to her it was still a beautiful mistake.

‘I should go, really,' he said with some kind of a reluctance, standing up, and put a cigarette in his mouth. ‘It's late, you're tired, I'm—ʼ

‘Oh. Okay,ʼ she stuttered, giving up, as she followed his steps. She watched him putting on his long trench and searching his pockets. ‘Just so you know, I don't blame you.ʼ He stopped and gave her a confused look. ‘For regretting. We've both had a few and it's—ʼ

‘Regretting?ʼ His eyes wide-opened. He took one step closer and the distance between them once again became very small. He caressed her cheek, his stare making her feel completely under his spell. ‘I know I may act like a madman, but I am certainly not that mad.ʼ

He was right and now she saw it – she didn't understand a thing. He was such a complicated person, he was like tangled wires or pieces of puzzle scattered around the floor. All those feelings she could see in his eyes looked so familiar, it was frustrating her because she knew that they were both missing just one piece to fully know each other's minds, as they both were clearly struggling the same sort of problems. They were so close, yet so far. She wanted to ask, she wanted him to tell her everything that was bothering him, but asking such thing required some level of confidence she'd never had.

It was two in the morning and the bottle of the cheap, awful bourbon was almost empty standing on the bedside table.

‘David—ʼ He turned around at her call. ‘Please, stay, would you?ʼ she asked, feeling a sudden surge of courage.

His frown eased, and a smile tugged one corner of his lips. He didn't say a word as he hung his coat on a back of a chair. She poured the rest of the bourbon into their glasses and threw the bottle into a small bin under the desk.

They spent the rest of the night on talking, simply staring into the roof window, seeing nothing but the darkness and their own reflection. They were slowly sipping on their drinks, as if it was the only excuse for him to stay, and smoking cigarettes, the ashtray between them on the bed. They were telling stories to each other, laughing and occasionally throwing in philosophical questions that none of them could answer.

And so the darkness started to fade into livid colours, as the morning came. Fearing this might be her last chance to do it, she brushed hair away from her face and said with a hesitation in her voice, ‘Can I ask you a something?ʼ

‘Go ahead.ʼ

‘If you could change one thing in your life, what would it be?ʼ

David chuckled at first, probably expecting questions about favourite colour or song. He rubbed his temple with the hand that held a half-smoked cigarette and she waited, giving him all the time he needed.

‘I don't think I would like to change much of my past really,ʼ he admitted finally, shaking ashes from his cigarette to the ashtray. ‘It made me who I am, you know? Every action I've taken in my whole life, it all lead me to this point. And as if for all current things happening in my life—there's too many to choose. But that's impossible anyway, isn't it? Although it would be quite nice if I could at least forget about it all for a day.ʼ

His answer was honest, but once again it was vaguely worded. She couldn't blame him for that, since she had done the same. And it wasn't that odd - they had just met, why should they trust each other this much? She couldn't rely on her heart telling her to trust him, it had failed her too many times. And David had to feel the same way, because they both wanted to talk but they were stopped by their cautiousness.

‘I wish we both know how to talk openly instead of keep hedging,ʼ she sighed, tilting her head back on a pillow.

‘I fear to speak my mind in front of you.ʼ

She looked at him confused, her brows knitted. ‘Why?ʼ

He didn't even glance at her, his eyes were still fixed upon the brightening early-morning sky. Plumes of smoke left his mouth as he breathed out slowly. ‘Because I don't want you to see me the way that I see myself.ʼ

The sun finally reached over the horizon and though they couldn't see it yet, its rays cut through thin orange clouds above them. She realised that she had shared half of the sunsets she had seen in London with him and it was equally surprising and oddly comforting. Dawns were the worst part of the day to her, especially after a sleepless night. She didn't always enjoy the loneliness and with him she simply didn't feel it. They were lying on the made-up bed, with their heads at the foot of it in order to have a clearer view at the window. She was still wearing her daily clothes, which had already managed to dry off after she'd been caught out in the downpour earlier. Her eyelids began to feel heavier with every seconds and she could feel tiredness creeping over her muscles. She rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes, and having drawn on her cigarette, she passed it to him.

‘I do believe you are wrong about it,ʼ she muttered and only heard a quiet hollow laugh in reply.

★

She had fallen asleep. It was no wonder, since she hadn't slept in over thirty hours. Her body had finally given up and decided to restore. But when the sound of the phone ringing woke her up, she was angry with herself for being so weak. It was almost noon, David was long gone and she had a headache telling her not to drink bourbon ever again. She picked up the phone.

‘Hello?ʼ

‘Good morning, sunshine. Are you still sleeping?ʼ

‘Not anymore, thanks, Ryan,ʼ she rolled her eyes and took the device from the desk. Thankfully, the wire was long enough (or maybe it was just the flat being small enough) to allow her to carry the phone to the kitchenette. She poured herself some water first and put the kettle on. ‘How are you?ʼ

‘Good, and you? What happened that my early bird was sleeping till noon today, eh?ʼ

Ellen put the phone on the worktop and held the receiver on her shoulder in order to free up her hands and start making breakfast.

‘I stayed up late,ʼ she mumbled and it wasn't even a lie although it was a big understatement.

‘What a waste of morning, to sleep it through! We've just been to the seashore, I was teaching Jack how to swim and you know what? I think he got it from his aunt 'cause he's rubbish at it,ʼ Ryan told her with a little laugh.

‘Hey, I am not rubbish at swimming!ʼ she whined pretending to be offended. ‘I just—made up a new swimming stroke that no one approves.ʼ

‘Alright, alright! Just please, never teach it to my son. I don't want him to drown, Lucy would kill me.ʼ

The moment she poured boiling water into a cup with coffee inside, the room was filled with this incredible, wakening smell. While waiting for it to brew, she took two pieces of bread and dropped them in a hot, dry pan.

‘And just so you know, if Jack has my special swimming skills, he will never drown,ʼ she said with a smirk and flipped the pieces of bread.

‘As long as there's a lifeguard,ʼ Ryan teased and she made a face and mocked him. Sometimes their talks looked as if they were children, as if they had grown up but their relations stayed the same.

This thought brought up memories of their childhood. She remembered all those times of them running around the playground and yelling at each other. Having a five years younger sister had been a social disaster to Ryan, since every time he wanted to go out and play with some friends, she wanted to go with him. And it was definitely uncool to have to carry a stupid girly sister everywhere. But he was always a good brother, even though he was ashamed of her in front of his friends, he always listened to her problems and helped her to solve them, often getting himself in troubles because of that. She would never forget him punching a boy that laughed at her old, worn-out shoes, which caused Ryan so many problems at school and at home.

‘—are you even listening to me, my dear sister?ʼ The voice brought her back to earth.

‘Of course I am! I am listening!ʼ

‘I won't test you, because I know you didn't listen—Anyway enough about me, you're clearly not interested in my ukulele story. What have you been doing?ʼ

Having spread peanut butter on the bread, she took the receiver in one hand, her shoulder already feeling quite sore from holding it, and hummed while thinking of an answer. ‘Working, mostly. Oh, and I got drunk last night, nothing to be proud of, in fact, my head hurts like someone hit me with an anvil.ʼ

‘It's called consequences and everyone has to face them,ʼ Ryan laughed at her. ‘Oh, guess who I bumped into the other day!ʼ She focused to much on his words, the knife accidently brushed her hand, smudging the peanutbutter on her skin. She licked it off with a smack. ‘Your crazy best friend, Poppy.ʼ

Poppy was a girl from her high school. Ellen had never even thought of calling her a best friend, she'd just been a girl sitting with her in classes and occasionally being tutored by her. Although she was her only friend, so maybe it should count as a best friend indeed. Poppy had always been obsessed with bands and travelled around to see as many concert as possible. She always talked too much and Ellen, on the contraty, barely spoke. So Ryan would always say the two were a perfect match. Poppy had dropped out from school a month before graduating because of the Rolling Stones tour and had been sending Ellen postcards from different states of America, until one day they had stopped. This had been the moment Ellen had realised that Poppy was indeed, her best friend.

‘Oh, so she's back in town?ʼ

‘Yeah and she was asking about you. A lot of people do ask, you know.ʼ

She put a plate with the toasted bread on her forearm, took coffee mug in her hand and with the other hand she tried to hold the receiver and the device at the same time to walk to the table. It didn't work, as the plate slipped off her lower arm onto the floor with a smash. ‘Fuck,ʼ she cursed under her breath.

‘Are you okay?ʼ Ryan sounded worried.

‘It's fine, I just—I've dropped a plate. Can someone, please, just invent a phone without the wire already?ʼ He laughed at her surreal vision. ‘Anyway, who else have been asking? And you didn't tell them anything, did you?ʼ

The pieces of a broken plate lied on the floor and she promised herself to clean it after the phone call. She took just her coffee and stepped over the mess, to sit on a chair. She wished she hadn't forget to buy sugar, because the taste of coffee was disgusting without it.

‘Of course I didn't. But, you know, it's a small town and every little change is easy to notice. So basically everyone asks.ʼ

‘Andʼ—she swallowed—‘the parents?ʼ

There was a quiet sigh on the phone. ‘You know them—They just don't speak of problems they cannot help.ʼ

‘So I don't exist to them anymore?ʼ she said in a voice as bitter as her coffee.

‘Ellen—ʼ

She didn't even know what her problem was. She wanted it, she wanted to run away, she wanted to get rid of the obligations to the family. And she did. Wasn't she supposed to be happy that they acted like she'd never been there? The answer was simple and based on one key word. They _acted_.

‘No, it's okay. It's great actually.ʼ She drank from the mug and reached for the last cigarette in a pack, holding in with her teeth. ‘Hey, and if you see Poppy, tell her I miss her and that once I'm back in Britford, I want to hear everything about America,ʼ she faked a careless tone to cover up her gloom.

‘Will you ever be back?ʼ Ryan questioned sceptically.

She rolled a sparkwheel of a lighter and moved the flame closer to the cigarette end. ‘No,ʼ she answered after a few seconds. ‘I don't think I will.ʼ

‘Can I visit you some day? Jack already misses you like hell.ʼ

‘Sure. Just—some day, okay?ʼ

‘Some day,ʼ he accepted her unspoken terms.

Once she finished her coffee, she put away the mug and said: ‘I have to go. I feel like a homeless, I need a shower and there's a mass in a nearby church soon, I'd like to make it on time.ʼ

After they hung up, she stayed by the desk to finish her cigarette. She had almost an hour and she shower would take her fifteen minutes tops. Her mind was full of thoughts about her family, her hometown and everything she left behind. She tried to waved away them but it didn't go as easily as with the smoke. There was also one thought of a completely different person, beaming though the rest. As she leaned over the desk to stub out the cigarette, she noticed a folded piece of letter paper weighed down by an empty glass. She took it and read the elegant, short handwriting.

_I didn't have a heart to wake you up, you were sleeping like a baby. I had a train to catch. Family matters. Thank you for the exhilarating night conversation. Hope to see you soon._  
_Have a great day, darling x_  
_-D._

The note put a little smile on her face. She hid the letter in a drawer and grabbed some fresh clothes before going to the bathroom.


	11. tall in this room

‘Dad, do we own a kite?ʼ

David, sitting in their living room and discussing new song ideas with Janet, put his cigarette aside to hold Duncan as he climbed onto his laps. His golden curly hair was slightly wet as he had just taken a bath after coming back home all dirty and covered in mud, explaining that he'd been trying his luck in a gold-digging in their backyard.

‘No, I'm afraid we do not own a kite.ʼ A sad expression came upon Duncan's face. ‘Why? Do you wanna fly a kite?ʼ

He nodded slowly, rubbing nose with his fist. ‘Can you make one?ʼ

‘I'm sure with your help I will be able to. Wanna try?ʼ David encouraged him, standing up. In the corner of his eye, he saw Janet smiling at them.

Duncan jumped with a wide grin upon his lips. ‘Of course!ʼ

‘Would you excuse me, Janet, darling? I have my duties as a parent to fulfill, hence I must go build a kite,ʼ he set it forth in a serious tone he usually used for business talk.

‘It's completely understandable. Duties are duties.ʼ She put down a porcelain teacup on a saucer and smiled at Duncan. She loved his son and enjoyed spending time with him. She never spoke of it, but David knew that she couldn't have children of her own and maybe it could be an explanation why she never minded taking care of Duncan.

As they were about to leave to get the necessary items to make a kite, they heard keys ringing in the lock and the door opened with Angela coming inside.

‘Oh God, it's unbelievably hot outside—Hi, honey,ʼ she kissed David's cheek and put down some shopping bags. Duncan was in the middle of tying up his shoes but he stopped this activity to hug her. ‘Watch out or you're gonna trip over your laces, Zowie!ʼ

David glared at her hearing her using this name. He didn't like it at all, to be honest. It had been, of course, her idea, she thought it would look adorable in press. Zowie Bowie, son of the famous glam rock singer. What a fucked up life priorities she had. At least she agreed on making it his middle name, in which case he didn't had to call him by it.

‘Where are you going anyway, boys?ʼ she asked suspiciously.

‘We're building a kite!ʼ Duncan whooped.

Angie faked excitement and brushed his curls with her fingers. ‘But your hair is still wet, please, go and dry it first or you'll catch a cold.ʼ

‘Hello, Angie, how was the shopping?ʼ Janet appeared in the hallway with her teacup and a warm smile.

Angela walked away from her son, ignoring his unhappy face. ‘Very eventful, I bought this incredible dress I was telling you about—ʼ

‘But you said it's hot outside. Shouldn't it dry itself?ʼ Duncan furrowed his eyebrows, completely confused by his mother's demand.

‘Duncan, my boy, just listen to your mother, alright?ʼ David knelt down and put his hand on his son's shoulder. ‘They won't close the shop in the meantime, I promise you that.ʼ

The boy ran up the wooden stairs so fast that he almost fell. Deep inside David couldn't deny feeling a little satisfaction that his son would listen to him rather than his mother.

‘I'll go and help him,ʼ Janet assured him, before making her way upstairs. ‘He shouldn't play with such electronics on his own.ʼ

As soon as they were both alone, Angela passed David in the doorway, leaving her high-heels behind and laid down on a rococo chais longue in the living room. They hadn't even spoken a word of the Saturday banquet. She didn't asked where he'd gone and it suited him, because excusing himself was truly the last thing he felt like doing. David wondered what she'd told everyone at the party about his absence. Did she pave it over or gathered people around and made a stand-up drama out of their life again? He bet on the second option.

‘I'm flying to New York first thing tomorrow morning. There's this exhibition and I'm hoping to meet someone I can start my new fashion project with,ʼ she informed him, fanning herself lazily with a newspaper. Her feet on claret velvet cushions irritated him a bit, for he didn't like her untidiness and sloppiness. ‘Will you stay with the kid?ʼ

‘Angie, darling, you know I have a recording session tomorrow morning,ʼ he reminded her, flopping into an armchair.

‘I can't cancel it, you have no idea how hard it is to get invitated to one of those,ʼ she scoffed.

‘And what makes you think I _can_ cancel?ʼ

She shrugged, acting like it all was none of her concern. Ashes from a cigarette between her fingers fell onto the floor before she reached an ashtray. She bent to clean them with a tissue.

‘Well, maybe Janet can do it. Would you mind asking her?ʼ

‘Don't you think it's a bit of a strange that my manager spends more time with our son that we do?ʼ They were sizing each other up for a moment before he let go and sigh. ‘Whatever. I'll figure it out.ʼ

There was no point in arguing over and over again, she was a particularly obdurated woman. Her tough character was, in fact, one of the reasons he had married her. It had impressed him until she found it a way to control him and he let her do it for his own peace of mind. It never calmed his mind though.

As if for the rescue from carrying on with this pointless talk, Duncan appeared in the living room, ready to head out to the shop, his hair in a complete mess after the blow-drying. He brushed it back with both of his small hands and ran to David.

‘Come on, dad!ʼ He tugged on his trouser leg to hurry him. The impatience of a four year old, when it comes to new toys or promised ice-cream, was adorable.

David let out a helpless laugh and followed his son to the hallway.

★

Thoughts of Saturday night kept haunting him. The ghost of guilty conscience was still making him feel a little sick, even though it'd been two days and he faced no consequences. He was a cheater. He had never thought he'd be able to do such thing and yet he was. It wasn't about the kiss or about what almost happened after that. It was the fact that it _didn't _happen and the reason for that, that scared the hell out of him. In his marriage with Angie, sex with other people was never really a problem. They both believed it was just a purely physical act fueled by mutual attraction and the need of pleasure. But with Ellen he felt something different. He didn't want her to be just one of the people he'd casually slept with. He could do that, hell, he wanted to, after all she was a very attractive woman indeed, with her dark hair and blue eyes, such a contrast to her milk paper-thin skin. But above all else, he was completely and madly attracted to her as a person.

The wide meadow they were on was covered in yellow kingcups and it looked beautiful at this time of the year. It turned out to be a perfect spot for flying a kite for there were no trees nor roads nearby. Besides, never had he seen anyone else being in this place, so he would often bring his son here to play, without people disturbing them and asking for autographs it was much enjoyable. The thing about being famous was that everyone thought they know you and they can stop you to have a little chat, but you didn't know any of them at all. All those strange faces asking sometimes really personal questions and no polite way to tell them to mind their own fucking business.

‘It won't fly!ʼ Duncan was mad at his own creation, made out of two sticks as a frame and a piece of yellow fabric as a sail.

David sighed, shaking off all of those niggling thoughts in his head.

‘Sweetheart, you're supposed to run with it at first to give it speed and then let it go! It's not a paper plane. Come on, I'll show you.ʼ He took the line from Duncan's hands. ‘Here, hold the bridle and walk away from the kite, I'll hold it up and let you know once it catches the wind. Okay?ʼ Duncan nodded started walking backwards, still facing him. He looked as focused as if it was the most important task he'd ever have to do. The yellow sail began to flap on the wind, resisting against David's grip. ‘Okay, ready? Run!ʼ

Duncan followed his command and sprinted ahead, his hair streaming and his joyful squeal carrying through blades of grass. As David let the body of the kite go, it immediately rose up in the air, higher and higher. Duncan stopped and as looked up, his face beamed with happiness. His sparkling eyes were fixed on the yellow diamond kite with a red ribbon tail. The kite looked like a bird upon a clear blue sky, casting a scraggy shadow on the meadow.

‘Daddy, look! Dad, it's flying!ʼ

There weren't many moments that David truly enjoyed in life. But if he was to list them, one of the top three surely would be spending time with his son, being just a regular, loving family. Those really were the moments he kind of regretted his career choice. He knew Duncan would never have a normal life, he was doomed for this celebrity status from the day he was born. And after only few years of this kind of life, David could sincerely say it wasn't at all as bright as they portray it.

A ziplock bag in his hand was almost empty, only traces of white powder on its bottom. He hid it in the back pocket of his trousers and sniffled. Having drawn on his cigarette, he laid down on the warm green grass, leaning back on elbows, his head tilted so he could gaze at the sky. ‘I told you we can do it.ʼ

Because of being in an open space, there was nothing to stop the draughts of the wind, which felt so nice on his basked skin. He fluttered his eyes shut, enjoying the perfect balance of warm sunshine and refreshing wind. The grass smelled like summer and it was so, so good he never wanted to leave this place. The delighted laughter of his son, fascinated with his new toy, was ringing in his ears pleasantly.

With his eyes closed, his other senses became highened. Everything was so extremely calming and delightful, the sounds, the scents, the feel.

God, he was higher than that fucking kite.

★

It wasn't a particularly busy day until about six o'clock. Then, people started coming in and out, asking about the instruments, wanting to test the new Fender guitar Mr Furlong had brought as a special item. Some of them would stop for a while by the vinyl shelves, asking for music recommendation, which was an opportunity for Ellen to play them some of the music she had recently discovered. Not everyone appreciated it but she was only learning and still wasn't very good at sensing people. She wondered if David could predict what people would develop a taste for just by one glance. He definitely had hit on point with her music taste because she didn't even know all those musicians but, yet she instantly loved them.

After an hour the wave went away and the shop was back calm. She felt tired, especially because of the sun shining through the windowsill and heating up the inside to an uncomfortably high temperature. Mr Furlong left for a post office and there was still an hour until the shop closes, so with nothing else to do, she sat to the beautiful black piano and opened the fallboard.

Her fingers skimmed cold ivory keys and just like every time she touched them, warm memories of home crawled under her skins. Idealised memories. She spared a glance at the carved music rack holding sheets, but having not found anything interesting, she closed her eyes and breathed in and out, before touching the keys again. The music was pouring from under her fingers like a calm spring rain. She was playing a melody from depths of her mind, based on a song she had learnt when she was a little girl. It started quite cheerfully but with each note it turned more melancholy and downhearted.

As her eyes opened, her stare landed on a glass showcase and she saw a reflection of a silhouette inside the shop. She jumped and her fingers mishit the keys making a sound of a terrible dissonance.

She turned around, still sitting on a piano stool, and gave him a frightened glare. ‘How long have you been standing there?ʼ

‘A while,ʼ David shrugged. He was standing by the record shelves, leaning against the doorframe and watching her with a smile. ‘What a beautiful song. Rather sad, but beautiful. What was it?ʼ

‘I don't know. An improvisation, I guess.ʼ Ellen turned her face back to the piano and placed her hands on the keyboard. They were shaking a little. She would always get very nervous when someone was listening to her.

‘Was it Mendelssohn I heard in between?ʼ he asked in curiosity, sitting next to her on the piano stool. She moved a little so they wouldn't be touching.

‘_Venetian Boat Song,ʼ _she admitted, her brows slightly raised in a surprise. Of course, he was a musician, but never had she thought he had such good hearing. ‘Anyway, what are you doing here? D-do you need anything?ʼ She cleared her throat and stood up, leaving him by the piano now.

It felt strange to see him now. They hadn't spoken since Saturday night, since the night they kissed. She had no idea how to act and for that reason she was acting peculiarly unnatural.

‘I've just come to see you.ʼ His fingers were playing a quiet melody, as he closed his eyes, just like she had before. He looked as beautiful as the music that was forming under his fingertips. Like a baroque marble statue. Dynamic, yet calming at the same time, and quite emotional to look at.

‘Why?ʼ

‘I don't know,ʼ he said with a distant stare, still playing an unknown song. ‘I've felt lonely. And your companion I enjoy very much indeed.ʼ

Silence fell between them. She tried to keep herself occupied with ordering the vinyl by alphabet. She had already done it, after today's sudden flow of clients, but she needed something to do, so she decided to sort them by artist's last name. The soft music kept playing. She pulled out a vinyl with a blue dotted cover and hot blushes crept upon her face. Luckily, she was standing with her back turned to him so there was no way he'd noticed it. But seeing this cover and remembering when they had first met in here, she thought of something strange and just couldn't hold it back.

‘Why did you lie to me?ʼ She showed him the record in her hand by twitching it up. David gave her a completely confused stare. ‘About your name. Why didn't you tell me your real name?ʼ

David stood up and came closer go her her, the wrinkle between his eyebrows mildened. ‘But I did, darling. I told you my real name.ʼ

‘David _Jones?ʼ _She crossed her arms with a sceptical look on her face.

‘Ellen, my dear, there are few people I have met from the outside of this bloody celebrity world over the past five years and believe me or not, I would never introduce myself to them with my stage name. That would make me look like a joke, wouldn't it?ʼ His voice was soft and quiet and as he spoke, she couldn't keep her eyes away from his. The distance between them was small now, yet still within normal limits. Her heart stopped beating for a few seconds as a response to his words.

‘S-so your name _is_ David Jones?ʼ

‘David Robert Jones,ʼ he specified. His hand reached for the vinyl she was holding and she gave it to him without hesitation. He scanned the cover with a mirthless smile, his fingers running over the edge of the record. ‘It's funny how people tend to forget about it. I sometimes forget about it. I think that's why I at least wanted you to be that one person who remembers.ʼ

She was about to part her lips and speak, when there was a ringing sound at the door as it opened and Mr Furlong came inside.

‘Holy moly, you were right, it is terribly hot today—Oh, hello, David!ʼ

David gave him a smile and a nod, before handing the record back over to Ellen. She hugged the record to her chest and blinked a few times. ‘I won't distract you from your work. I'll see you in an hour? If you want to see me, naturally.ʼ

‘Actually, I would love some coffee later.ʼ

‘Brilliant.ʼ His lips, like two ice cubes, touched her cheek and she felt them burning again.


	12. overlooking the ocean

Taste of coffee, with a note of vanilla, filled her mouth. It was early, the sunlight looked cold and fresh, and streets were still mostly shadowed by buildings surrounding them. In the terrible heat of May sun, mornings were still possible to bear outside, therefore having bought their coffees, they took a walk to a park. Tall trees and vivid colour of grass felt like a piece of forest moved to the centre of the city.

It had been two weeks now since she came to London and her life changed diametrically. It was better, for sure, although it didn't start to look any normal, as she had expected it to. Quite the opposite in fact; it was an emotional wild ride of uncertainty, thrill, half-drunk coffee cups, shared cigarettes and accidental brushes of hands they never tried to prevent.

As they were walking side by side, a brief wind blowing through her hair, the air smelled like first days of summer. She was talking about her day with excitement and he laughed from time to time at her story, his eyes partly closed. The smoke was drifting lazily from between his lips.

‘—and yesterday he came back with a complain and demanded his money back.ʼ

‘You sold him two six-string packs instead of a twelve-strings one. What did you expect?ʼ

‘I know, but he was boasting so much about his incredible skills I thought he knew what he was doing,ʼ she rolled her eyes. ‘I mean, have he ever _played _that guitar?ʼ

‘You have such a charming pretty face I bet you'd sell a bow to a bass player,ʼ he replied.

‘Stop it, eh.ʼ She felt a flush creeping into her face. It was pathetic, her blushing all the time, but there was no way she could help it. Her face had always been like an open book.

She finished up her coffee and binned the empty paper cup. ‘Anyway, how was your day, what did you do?ʼ

They turned left, diverting into a desire path. The bird were twittering some of their favourite morning songs, making the distant sound of cars and already busy roads almost inaudible.

‘Nothing peculiarly exciting. Just work.ʼ

He would always referred to everything related to the recording studio as ‘workʼ and she couldn't understand why he didn't want to talk about it. Sometimes she would ask for more details and then he'd tell her, but he never started it first.

‘And? How's the demo?ʼ she inquired, biting her lip with impatience.

‘I'm not quite sure of it, to be honest,ʼ he told her, putting sunglasses on his nose, as the sun poked out from behind the tree crowns. ‘It's not what I have on mind right now. I started this album a year ago, you know, and so many things have changed since then.ʼ

‘Then change it,ʼ she said simply. ‘If you're not satisfied with what it's like, make it so you do.ʼ

David stopped and looked at her like she was lunatic. His brows were furrowed and the sunglasses slipped down to the tip of his nose. ‘I have a contract signed. It's almost done, the album. And despite truly hating it, the feeling that I could've done better, I just can't change it last minute.ʼ

_‘__Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes—ʼ_ she crooned with a smirk.

‘Oh, I can't believe you've done that!ʼ he burst into laughter with a doze of embarrassment, wrapping his arm around her and covering her mouth as she kept singing.

She wrenched herself free and having stolen a cigarette from his fingers, drew on it, walking backwards. ‘I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. But, yeah, I think you should never force yourself to anything if it comes to your passions, it takes all the joy away. You ordered a scone but then suddenly felt like a pie? Eat a fucking pie and don't give a toss about what they're gonna do with the scone.ʼ

‘Did you just referred to desserts as your passion?ʼ he laughed.

Ellen turned around and joined his side. ‘Hey. I'm a simple human being.ʼ

At the end of the path there was a small bluff, where the ground was subsiding down a river bed. The grass was shining with morning dew, so he took off his coat and spread it on the ground for them to sit on it. Sunshine flickered in the Thames water. The cigarette smoke drifted towards it, as breathed out. She leaned her head on his shoulder and gazed out the city skyline across the river.

‘It's getting late.ʼ He raised his eyes up for the bright sky, letting the smoke out of his mouth.

By then, the sun had reached to the point there were no doubts about it. One of the nastiest parts of their daily meetings was the moment when they both realised it would have to end really soon. They were only seeing each other early in the mornings, sometimes even at the dead of nights, but eventually she always had to go to work and he had to go back to his duties. It was tough to even think of it, so every time they avoided the topic for as long they could.

‘Will I see you tomorrow?ʼ she faltered.

‘I'm afraid so,ʼ he muttered in her hair, before kissing it gently.

Electrifying sparkles pierced through her neck down to her spine. They remained sitting on his coat, staring at the calm river until they finished smoking. After that, he stubbed out his cigarette, leaving it in the grass, and got to his feet.

‘Come on.ʼ He offered her a hand and she took it, but when she tried to get up, her foot slipped on the wet grass, tripping him too.

They both fell back onto the ground and after a moment of shock, lying on their back, they burst in laughter.

‘Fuck, that bloody hurt!ʼ he groaned out. ‘I might have just had my spine fractured.ʼ

‘Oh my God, you okay?ʼ she asked worried, but didn't move a bit. They were lying next to each other, their eyes staring at the blue sky.

‘No. We have to stay here. Forever,ʼ he stated in a fully serious voice.

‘Forever sounds good,ʼ she chuckled.

His fingers brushed the back of her hand as he squirmed. She stopped them from moving away by intertwining their fingers together. At first it felt like a blunder, but when he held it firmer, she unbraced.

‘It is such a frustrating word though,ʼ he said, his voice sounding a bit spaced out. ‘Forever. A mystery that we will never be able to solve. How long is forever? When does it end? Why has anyone even given a name to it, without proving it first?ʼ

There were times, not very often, yet quite captivating, when his eyes fired up with those sparkles and he started talking, as excited as he was about solve the world's biggest secret. For some it might sound like an utter gibberish, but she loved seeing those sparkles, they enthralled her. In her life never had she had time to just lay down, stare at the sky and think about what was beyond it. And hearing him saying out loud his very deep thoughts, it was a glimpse of this universe locked inside his mind. Beautiful, fascinating and never enough.

‘You cannot see how long is foreverʼ—he continued on his devagation—‘therefore we can't even be sure if forever is real. Everything ends, so if forever does too, it won't, in fact, be—_for ever.ʼ_

There was a moment of silence after his words and she could hear his heavy, steady breath.

‘It's just a word,ʼ she said, amused a little.

David leaned over her, with some kind of a vague blend of edge and fixation in his eyes. ‘Oh my dear Ellen, how you always spoil things up with horrible truth! There's a difference between a word and its meaning I don't think you realise. As soon as you know what lies behind a word, you only use it as a simplification in communication with others. Because still, if you hear or say the word, you think of all the things this word means to you.ʼ

His face was right in front of her, his eyelashes casting long shadows on sharp cheekbones. She sunk in his pale blue eyes, having trouble to focus on both of them, because one pupil was, as always, dilated and it was like staring into two different people's eyes. His warm breath was winding her skin.

‘Like the word kissʼ—he whispered into her parted mouth—‘compared to this.ʼ

He closed the gap between their lips, causing her every bone to set afire. It wasn't anything like their first kiss, back in her place, drunk, hungry and sloppy. Millions of emotions burst inside her, it was like the scent of spring and the touch of fresh snow at the same time. Cosy, like opening an oven with a homemade pie inside and thrilling, like standing on the edge of the world. She felt nothing and everything all at once.

At that time though, she didn't feel the consequences yet.

★

  
By eleven o'clock, they were standing in front of Mr Furlong's music shop. The sun was almost at its highest point in the sky and it looked like it was going to be another hot day. David opened the door for her and she walked in, chuckling.

‘So I'm thinking maybe—you wanna meet me after work?ʼ he proposed, leaning against the doorframe, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. ‘We can go see that new film or just wander around.ʼ

‘Only if you get me home by midnight,ʼ she said, weakening his enthusiasm a little. ‘I need to sleep sometimes, you know.ʼ

‘I acknowledge it, though I do not understand at all. See you at eight then,ʼ he smiled and just before leaving, he stepped closer and kissed her lips, just as if they had done that hundred times before.

Ellen stiffened with surprise, but her muscles relaxed quickly and she put hand on his cheek. As they pulled away, she gave him a wide smile, happiness filling her stomach. ‘See you at eight.ʼ

The door closed behind him and with a grin like a silly teenage girl, she watched him passing the windowsill. In order to speed up time, she got down to work. She knew Mr Furlong was staring at her and she avoided him, afraid of what he might say about her and David kissing just few minutes ago. It wasn't until an hour later, when he decided to talk to her about it and it was beyond everything she would've expected.

‘So you're dating David now?ʼ Mr Furlong threw in casually, giving her a look from above his thick glasses, furrow lines appearing on his forehead.  
Ellen stumbled and dropped some of the boxes she was carrying.

‘W-what?ʼ

‘Godness, I'm sorry. I didn't want to sound rude or intrusive. I just—He's a very charming man, I've always known that. But when it comes to women, he's nothing but trouble.ʼ He drew on his pipe and let out thick clouds of smoke, furrowing his brows in an intense contemplation. ‘I assume you're aware of the fact he's married, so you know what you're getting yourself into. I'm not here to lecture you or anything. Just be careful, child, alright?ʼ He touched her hand, with a kind, nonjudgemental smile. ‘It's a pretty wild world he lives in.ʼ

Ellen blinked a few times, not able to find any words to say. The walls seemed to be closing at her and every bit of her high spirits crumbled under the weight of what she had just heard. Luckily, her face was down so there was a chance he didn't see the upset painted on it. By the time she raised her eyes, first wave of shock floated away, so she forced a shy smile upon her lips and said, ‘I wouldn't call it dating, it's just—ʼ

‘Oh dear, you don't have to confess to me!ʼ he chuckled, a bit sheepish as well, and immediately changed the subject. ‘Anyway, could you pass me those papers from the counter, please?ʼ

She followed his request with a blank face and went back to her daily tasks.

Few things could make work more difficult than not being able to concentrate. And today the whole time at work, she couldn't focus on anything but the fact which she had just found out about. Of course he had a wife. He was he was a charming, intelligent and eloquent man, almost thirty, it shouldn't surprise her at all. She was such a silly, naive person. This was why he'd stopped the other way, when they were kissing on her bed. And yes, she could count that one as a simple drunk mistake, but what about today? Was that also a mistake? The awful thought of it all, every their meeting, being just stupid mistakes, made her feel dizzy. Millions of tiny needles were spiking her brain, instilling the feeling of being fooled, let down and treated like a piece of rubbish.

And with those needles in her head she carried on until the clock stroke eight in the afternoon. Punctual as always, from the first time they went out, David entered the shop with a confident smile.

‘Hello, darling. You ready?ʼ The smile though, it vanished when he saw her indifferent face.

Having grabbed her bag, Ellen was searching for the keys, her hands trembling like surface of a bounced soap bubble. He walked to the counter and stopped by her side. In the corner of her eye, she saw his hand with the keys in it.

‘Yeah, let's go,ʼ she forced a smile and walked out of the shop.

He followed her, with a stare so intense she could feel it tickling on her neck. The doorlock clicked two times and after making sure it was closed, she dropped the keys in her bag and lit a cigarette, pacing towards the park. The sun hid behind dark thick clouds spelling a storm.

‘Are you alright, Ellen?ʼ He tried to wrap his arm around her, but she avoided it. ‘Did something happen?ʼ

‘Don't,ʼ she snapped, her gaze on the ground.

Upset was a mild word for what she was and hurt was a mild word for what she felt. They didn't speak for a moment and in fact, she didn't mind not talking to him at all.

‘I wish I could read minds, you don't even know how much I wish for it with you,ʼ he admitted throwing away the cigarette butt. ‘But I can't, so I need your help, you know.ʼ

‘I can't read minds either so I would've really appreciated it, if you told me you have a wife,ʼ she poured out as she stopped to face him.

She expected him to at least look bemused or worried. She expected shock on his face, embarrassment maybe. Instead of this, David simply put another cigarette in his mouth to light it and after taking a puff, he replied, ‘Why should I? It's none of your concern.ʼ

‘It wasn't my concern, until you decided to kiss me!ʼ She pressed her finger to his chest, inside hers boiling rage. ‘I'm not someone you can just cheat your wife with, I'm not some bloody hussy and you made me one!ʼ

He grabbed her wrist gently and took it away. He was growing irritated, she could feel it yet somehow his face remained still, untouched with emotions. ‘I'm sorry, I didn't think my marriage was a problem, let alone a secret.ʼ

A few cars passed them by, hopefully none of the drivers noticed the presence of a famous rock star arguing in the middle of a street with some unknown girl. As salvific as the vision of someone breaking in this pathetic fight might be, she didn't want it. It was something she needed, to finally put the record straight.

‘If you're willing to cheat on your wife, then do it, but leave me out of this.ʼ

‘Ellen, for Christ's sake, we just kissed!ʼ he growled, raising his eyes up in the air.

And that was the very first time he really hurt her. It was like a punch in a stomach, taking away her breath, causing her to gasp for air. She felt anger filling in her veins.

‘So now it's a _we just__ kissed? _You know what, _just_ _kiss_ my arse,ʼ she blurted and having turned her back on him, she just walked away. ‘What a bloody naive idiot I am—ʼ

At first she was convinced the anger was towards him. However, after lacing into him, she didn't feel any better and she realised it was her she was mad at. Because once again, she allowed herself to believe anyone cared for her, and the fact they never did was like another bitter pill dissolving on her tongue.


	13. here are we

Life can be one big pile of irony, laughing in your face. Sometimes you are unaware of that one thing and shortly after finding out, you see it everywhere, suddenly everyone's talking about it, it's on TV, on the papers, people on the streets are just casually mentioning it. Like some difficult word or a breed of a race horse, or a song. Or a wife of someone you have almost slept with.

Walking home with grocery bags in both her hands, she passed by a newspaper cart and her eye was caught by a big picture of a fancy-dressed couple. Mr and Mrs Bowie at Zandra Rhodes's. Ellen took a moment to look closer at the woman and she felt an awful pang stinging right in her heart. She was pretty, in this beautiful cocktail dress matching his blue bow tie. Her smile looked like a typical toothpaste commercial one. Of all the women he had been dating, it was no wonder he married this one. She was, indeed, astonishing. Ellen scoffed and rushed to her flat, trying to leave the feeling of jealousy and hurt behind. But it followed her all along.

As she got home, she felt relief since it was much cooler than in the blazing sun. She took a quick shower and changed in her casuals. With a cigarette between her lips, she laid on her bed and tried to distract herself with her book. It didn't help at all for her thoughts were focused on the day David had appeared in the shop and gave it back to her. She hated herself for letting him in so quickly. Trust was always the hardest thing to gain and the easiest to lose and once she had trusted him, this commonly known fact vanished from her mind. But that was her life in a nutshell. Never learning from her own mistakes, getting hurt in the end.

She put down her cigarette and reached for another one, when a sudden urge for having a drink hit her. She sighed, knowing there was no alcohol left in her fridge. She wasn't a drinking person actually but she took a note to go and get some later, for the times of need like these. She changed into a light dress and left the flat. The only pub she knew was the one she got attack in front of last time, but right not it wasn't revelant.

As she walked inside, she recognised the barman from the other day.

‘Oh, hello there, luv!ʼ he beamed at her and stopped cleaning the tables. ‘Anything for you? White wine maybe?ʼ

‘Oh, no, I think I'll have some whiskey this time.ʼ She bit her lip, surprised he remembered her previous order.

He poured her a drink and slid it towards her. ‘Is there something bothering you, sweetheart? Anyone walking in for something stronger usually have something on their mind.ʼ

She took a sip and twisted. She was definitely not an alcohol person. But following everyone else, drinking their problems away, she thought it might actually help her.

‘It's nothing,ʼ she shrugged and lit a cigarette. ‘Can I have an ashtray, please?ʼ

‘Of course,ʼ he smiled and put a glass ashtray in front of her, sitting down on the other side of the counter. ‘Come on, just spit it out, it'll make you feel better. They say barmen are the best shrinks and believe me or not but I have studied psychology. Well, for two months, but hey. Not every barman can say that, can they?ʼ

She let out a little laugh covering her mouth with the hand holding a cigarette. ‘It's silly and unimportant. I just want to get drunk and forget about it.ʼ

‘If you say so—ʼ He turned around and reached for another glass before pouring some whiskey in it. ‘Here's to the things we want to forget.ʼ

He clinked their glasses and drank all the wkiskey at once. The pub was almost empty, just like the other day, but she hoped it wouldn't change since it was Tuesday today. She felt a little scared when walking in but with every sip of her drink she cared less about anything.

‘Two more beers, please!ʼ shouted a man from the table in the corner.

‘Right away, gents!ʼ The barman started pulling two pints of lager from the keg and once the beer glasses were full, he carried them to the table.

‘So is it okay for you to drink at work, sir?ʼ she threw in, playing with her glass, as he found himself behind the counter again.

_‘__Sir?ʼ _he let out a raspy chuckle. ‘Come on, I'm not much older than you! I'm Chris,ʼ he said, offering her a hand.

She shook it, with a fainted smile twitching her lips. ‘Ellen.ʼ

‘And yeah, well. If anyone here would complain about me drinking, I won't hesitate to call them a hypocrite,ʼ he shrugged. ‘Besides, it's gonna be a really calm night. Unlike the last time you were here.ʼ

‘I hope so.ʼ She paved out the unpleasant meeting with a group of drunk men outside the pub then.

‘So where are you from, Ellen?ʼ he asked curiously, which made her laugh. He furrowed his brows. ‘What?ʼ

‘Nothing, it's just—every person I have met here so far asked me about that,ʼ she rolled her eyes with amusement. ‘Do you Londoners keep, like, a list or a register of the locals?ʼ

‘It's your accent. You know how all the London folk usually have this BBC accent?ʼ He leaned to her like he was telling her a secret. ‘You sound a bit West Country.ʼ

She burst in laughter. ‘Oh my God, that's rubbish!ʼ

‘Yeah, you do. You don't spell 'h' at all,ʼ he teased.

‘I do spell 'h'!ʼ she bridled, almost standing up. ‘Like home or, or—homicide!ʼ

‘'_ome, 'omicide__—_ʼ he mocked her, which she pushed him for. ‘But seriously, is homicide the first 'h' word that popped into your head? Should I be scared of you?ʼ

‘Yes. You don't mess with West Country!ʼ

‘Ha, so you are from the West!ʼ he exclaimed. ‘I just knew it.ʼ

‘Shut it, you. Pour me another one, please.ʼ She gave him her empty glass.

★

David was upset only for few hours. Only until he got back home after an unsuccessful attempt to chase Ellen and explain everything to her. She had disappeared inside her own flat and he didn't want to bother her anymore. That was another unusual thing she made him do. He would always be really stubborn and persistent, not accepting the fact that someone didn't want to talk to him. But the look of hurt in her eyes caused him to let it go and just leave. So he did leave. The next few days were only blurred strands of memories to him. Not wanting the guilt to strike him like a thunder, he would keep himself in a drunk or high state for all the time. And he had to admit it was actually working. He didn't feel anything. Anything except the terrible dejectedness. He was such an idiot to spoil such a good relation that was blooming between them. He really felt he could have a friend in her, a first real friend in a long time, and he cared a lot about her, but his greed for more had destroyed everything. Those were the times David Bowie really messed things up for David Jones and David Jones could do nothing but watch his life going down because of the person he became.

Struggling to pour himself another drink from an almost empty bottle, he ran his fingers through his hair and accidentally hit his elbow on a desk. The alcohol spilled all over the desk and on his trousers and ticked with this, he dropped the bottle. It rolled over and fell to the wooden floor with a loud crack. Trying to pick it up, one piece got stuck in the palm of his hand. After removing it, blood started to sip from the small cut.

‘That fucking—ʼ he mumbled, wiping the blood on his trousers.

He lost his balance and sat down on the floor, amongst broken pieces of the bottle. He hid his face in hands and let out a groan of frustration. The rain outside was banging against the window like it was trying to force its way in.

‘David? You okay?ʼ A female voice sounded in the room, as the door opened a little.

‘Fuck off.ʼ

It didn't stop the woman from coming in. ‘God, you're such a mess—Why do you keep doing this to yourself, huh?ʼ

‘It's not your bloody business, Janet, and I said fuck off,ʼ he slurred, pulling himself up on the chair, ignoring the pain in his hand.

She sighed but approach him and placed his arm around her neck to help him up. ‘Come on, let's get you to bed.ʼ

‘Do you think I'm a bad person?ʼ he asked her.

‘You're tired. And terribly wasted,ʼ she told him, leading him to his bedroom.

They reached his bed and he sank in it immediately, his muscles too limp to hold him up. ‘But am I a bad person?ʼ

Janet turned around to leave but the words stopped her before she moved half step. ‘I don't think you are. But I think you have some issues that need to be solved. Otherwise, you'll lose it.ʼ

‘Just look at me, I've already lost it. I will end up with my brother even sooner than I thought,ʼ he laughed histerically, not bothered by the fact he had never actually told her about his brother. ‘You know I love her? Angie, I mean.ʼ

‘She's your wife, so I suppose so,ʼ Janet looked at him with surprise.

‘But I think there's someone else. Or it was, actually, the past tense, it should solve the problem, but it doesn't at all. And I don't know what to do—ʼ

‘David, can we talk about it in the morning?ʼ she interrupted him, placing her hand on top of his. ‘It's not really a good time now. You may now say things you'll regret later.ʼ

‘I'm afraid I won't remember any of this in the morning,ʼ he admitted with a bitter chuckle. ‘I don't want to fuck things up but it's like, it's my move, you know? I always do this. I always fuck things up, with everything. I'm David fucking Bowie, an instant celebrity star and a fucker-up. A fuck-upper? Help me to improve this word, I think I just invented it, no one ever needed to do this before, apparently—ʼ

‘Just go to sleep, Dave. It'll be alright, I promise,ʼ she reassured, striking his hair.

As soon as he stopped fighting it, it didn't take long for him to just slump over and slide towards the abyss of sleep. And so the days passed by, between being asleep and being a living opposite of ‘soberʼ. It was just like the early beginnings of his fame, though this time there was no fun in it.

★

Drinking away the problems in the pub lasted until two in the morning. She had to admit, despite feeling like a piece of garbage, she had quiet a good time. Talking with Chris was like talking with some old friend from school. It was shallow and senseless, but it kind of was what she needed right now. She had to stop though, for the sake of going work at eleven.

She set her glass aside and stood up, swaying a little. ‘It's time for me. Thanks for the talk and all.ʼ

‘I'll walk you home,ʼ he offered without hesitation. ‘The pub should've been closed for two hours now anyway.ʼ

‘And you didn't you kick me out?! I am so sorry for being such a pain in the arse—ʼ

‘Come on, I wanted to have a drink, why should I kick you out?ʼ He put on a leather jacket and jumped over the counter. ‘Oh, wait, I almost forgot!ʼ He dived under the counter and pulled out a pink umbrella. ‘I took it with me the other day, I hope you're not mad. In compensation, I must admit I had lost a piece of my dignity that day.ʼ

She laughed and grabbed the handle. ‘I thought I lost it!ʼ

‘So, shall we? Or maybe you want one for the road?ʼ

‘No, I'm definitely good, thanks,ʼ she shook her head. ‘I don't even want to think of tomorrow morning—ʼ

Chris led them out of the pub, turning all the lights out on the way, and locked the door. ‘Take five pills of vitamin C and drink a bottle of water.ʼ

‘What?ʼ she laughed, lighting a cigarette.

‘I'm telling you, as a experienced barman and an occasional drinker, five pills of vitamin C, a bottle of water and you will never know what a hangover feels like,ʼ he advised her in a fully serious tone.

‘If I do that and it turns out to be a joke, I will never tell you, you know?ʼ she giggled. ‘Anyway, I'll walk from here. My flat is over there.ʼ

She obviously lied, hoping it wasn't so obvious to him. She had quite fun tonight, but she didn't want anything else, still not over the thing that had happened a few days ago. In the pub the alcohol made her feel a little better, but the moment they left it, the gloom hit her twice as hard.

‘Okay, I won't insist,ʼ Chris let go. ‘Just don't get yourself killed along the way!ʼ

She cracked a weak smile. ‘I'll try. Goodnight.ʼ

Chris waved to her as he walked in the opposite direction and she turned into her street.

★

The morning was even more devastating then she had expected. Her head was spinning and making her sick. Even a cold shower didn't help and she cursed herself for forgetting about the advice from Chris. She opened the window and lit a cigarette, hoping it would help but it only made things worse. It was eight in the morning, which meant she had three hours to clean herself up and go to work. It was so irresponsible of her to get drunk on a weekday, she couldn't believe she had done that. She always thought of herself as a decent person, aware of her responsibilities and now she was kneeling over a toilet bowl, praying for the hangover to go away so she could drink a coffee and start functioning like a normal person.

She lay down on her bed, not being able to do anything more and her sadistic brain began to analyse every moment of her relation with David, causing her heart to ache and her eyes to water with tears of anger and frustration. The worst part of this was the fact she felt a burning need to see him again. It occurred to her that she had overreacted the other day and bursting out like this wasn't as proper as it seemed to be then. She should've been calmer and just played it cool. Maybe it that case, she would still have a friend in him. Right after this thought, there was another one reminding her of the way he kissed her in the grass, while having a wife and a child back home, and she bit her knuckles to prevent herself from screaming. There were two sides of her fighting against each other and it was pure madness, when the third side tried to cut in that she only had known him for _a month_!

Little did she know that soon all of this wouldn't matter anymore.

The blizzard of thoughts inside her mind was stopped by the sudden ringing if the phone. She let out a sigh but answered it, reluctantly. The only person ever calling her was her brother and this time it was no different.

‘Hi, Ryan, it's not the best time, really—ʼ

‘Ellen, you have to come back, please. Mother isn't feeling well.ʼ

The pain inside her chest ripped her heart apart and she felt nauseous again, this time it had nothing to do with the hangover. ‘W-what? What happened?ʼ

‘I'm sorry I call you like this. I didn't want to put any pressure on you but I—I think it's serious.ʼ His voice was shaking and since he was always so steady and level-headed, it frightened her even more. ‘She had a stroke.ʼ

‘Oh my God—ʼ She covered her mouth in disbelief, and her blood was being pumped so fast she could hear it rushing in her ears which made it almost impossible to hear Ryan's words through this sound.

‘She's in hospital now,ʼ he informed her. ‘I know it's not on your dream list but, please, you need to come home. She needs to see you. We don't know if she, you know—will make it,ʼ he choked out.

The world stopped. She never got along with her mum very well but the thought of losing her was devastating. The regrets and guilt for leaving home hit her even harder.

‘I'll try to c-come as soon as possible,ʼ she promised, struggling to hold the receiver with her trembling hand. ‘I'll call you from the station, will you pick me up, please?ʼ

‘Of course,ʼ he said. ‘And thank you.ʼ

‘It's my mother too, Ryan,ʼ she noticed, harshly.

She hung up and started packing the most important things to her rucksack. She didn't have much time to think about anything else, so ten minutes later she was on her way to the railway station.


	14. one magical movement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im a walking chaos so here goes a boring pile of written chaos have a nice day

* * *

Salisbury welcomed her with pouring rain, which made her feel like she never left, because it had been raining the last time as well. She walked out of the red brick building of the railway station, thinking of how it was always raining in moments like that. It was a stupid, cheap move used in films to make the viewers feel more emotional and it worked even better in real life, which she could see herself right now. She still felt a little sick after last night drinking but it was getting much better. Outside the railway station, she met a tall blonde man, smoking a cigarette, walking in circles around a beige car.

‘Hey, little one,ʼ he stopped and smiled at her, but his eyes remained fulled with worry.

Ellen run into his arms and he hugged her so tight she almost lost her breath, but she managed to grunt, ‘I've missed you like hell.ʼ

‘Isn't hell a bad place?ʼ a tiny voice spoke out from the car.

‘It is and that's why your aunt missed us so badly,ʼ Ryan explained, scratching his shoulder with the other hand awkwardly.

‘Hi, Jack!ʼ Ellen rolled her eyes and opened her arms to hug him too.

He jumped out of the car and rushed up to her.

‘I've missed you like hell!ʼ he exclaimed happy to see her, wrapping his little arms around her neck.

‘Great, now Lucy will kill me,ʼ Ryan whimpered, before getting in the car.

Ellen couldn't help but laugh, carrying Jack back to the backseat. Once they all were inside the vehicle, Ryan instructed everyone to buckle up and started the engine, which roared like a wounded lion.

‘You want to go home first or go straight to the hospital?ʼ

‘I don't—ʼ She quietened her voice, ‘I don't plan on going home at all. I'll just stay at some hotel.ʼ

‘I meant our house. I would never force you to go back to that place.ʼ

‘Oh.ʼ For a moment they were driving in silence and Ryan was tightening his grip on the steering wheel, waiting for the answer getting him impatience. ‘I think I wanna see mum first.ʼ

He turned left and the ground scrunched under the car, leaving clouds of dust behind. He would always drive like crazy, ever since he got his license, back in high school. Ellen never understood how he managed to pull any girl using that kind of showing off. And for what she knew, Lucy wasn't one of those. Lucy had always been just scoffing and rolling her eyes on that, occasionally yelling at him that he was stupid and it was dangerous, and if he died in a car crash, she'd call it natural selection. Ryan had one car crash in his entire life and his then girlfriend, now wife, didn't dare to call it natural selection, but cried and prayed for his life instead.

The Odstock Hospital wasn't the best equipped medical facility, it was far from from being the best, yet still the staff really took care of their patients. It was placed about two miles from the centre of Salisbury, near Britford. The complex was consist of a few brick single-storey buildings, each of them containing a different department.

As soon as Ryan had parked the car, they all walked towards the Neurology Department. Jack was holding his father's hand and doing little jumps instead of steps, not aware of the seriousness of the situation. Had Ellen been stressed before, now she was shaking and fighting for breath. Ryan put his arm around her to comfort her, but she tried to cover the emotions with a weak smile.

‘Hi, we're here to see Mrs Martha Dean,ʼ Ryan told the elder lady at the registry.

‘Are you family?ʼ She glanced at them from above her glasses.

‘Yes, we're her children.ʼ

‘Down the hall, fourth door on the left. Room twenty-five,ʼ she instructed them, pointing the direction with her hand. ‘Just please remember, the visiting hours end at three o'clock. You can come back later in the evening, from six to eight.ʼ

‘Alright, thank you, madam,ʼ Ryan smiled at the lady and led Ellen and Jack to the room.

Just before the door opened, Ellen tried her best to remember what her mother looked like and the panic instantly grew in her stomach. She saw a fuzzy picture of dark hair, just like hers but much longer, and a pretty smile, but the intense pressure on her mind didn't allow her to remember any more details. There was no time for that though, because Ryan pressed the door handle and they walked in. There were three more beds in the room, but the one they were interested in, was placed by the window with a great view on the forest. And a skinny woman, covered up to her nose under a thick white duvet.

‘M-mum?ʼ Tears came in Ellen's eyes in just one second. She ran to the bed and gripped on the steel frame.

The woman slowly moved her eyes on her and her lips twitched in a nasty grimace which was supposed to be a smile. There was pain and stress in those brown eyes staring at her right now.

‘She still can't speak much—ʼ Ryan told her in a quiet voice, sending a warm smile to their mother.

Ellen walked to the bedside and cupped her mum's hand. It was cold and trembling unconsciously.

‘Mum, it's me, Ellen. I'm so sorry I left—I was such a bad daughter. I'm sorry, I—You will be alright, you know? Everything will be alright, I'm not leaving you anymore, I promise.ʼ

‘Dad, is nanny sick?ʼ Jack was clearly too scared to come closer. He never had good contact with his paternal grandparents. No wonder, Ryan avoided visiting them until it was necessary, like Christmas or their birthdays. And now he must be really upset with the way his grandmother looked like and acted.

‘Yes, but she will get better soon,ʼ Ryan assured, kneeling by him, and turned to Ellen, ‘We'll get you some time. Do you want to get ice-cream, bud?ʼ

Jack nodded shily and took his father hand. Soon it was only Ellen and her mother in the room with the three more empty beds.

‘El—ʼ she heard a faltering voice, so quiet it could be mistaken for a wind blow.

‘Yes, mother, I'm here,ʼ she sobbed.

Her mother's shaking finger pointed the bedside table as she muttered something under her breath.

Ellen turned to look at what she wanted and noticed a pack of Embassy cigarettes, lying between two big flower vases.

‘I'm not sure you should be smoking right now,ʼ she said slowly, giving her a concerned look. ‘You can barely speak and I think Ryan would kill me, honestly, if I let you—ʼ

‘If I die—ʼ she mumbled and every word was a great effort for her so Ellen guessed I was very important and listened carefully to not miss a thing, ‘—I'll haunt you—ʼ

Ellen cracked a laugh, salty tears falling onto her cheeks. ‘Oh my God, stubborn as always, aren't you?ʼ

She reached for the cigarettes and having pulled one stick, she put it in her mother's mouth. Her eyes sparkled like a little rebel she used to be when she was younger and for a second she looked like the pretty young lady from their old family photographs again. Ellen set the fire to the end of the cigarette and let her draw on it. She coughed a few times at first but then let out a cloud of smoke.

‘It's not that bad, is it?ʼ Ellen said to her with a cheer, though her eyes were still watery. ‘I've heard people after a stroke can't move at all, and look at you, smoking like a chimney and threatening me!ʼ

Left side of her face was paralised which made her smile look a bit disturbing. Suddenly the door opened and Ellen whipped the cigarette out of her mother's lips with panic and put it out in the flower vase, which caused her to let out a displeased moan.

‘The visiting hours are over, Miss,ʼ a nurse informed her in a polite manner, then he wrinkled his nose. ‘Is anyone smoking here?ʼ

‘No, sir.ʼ Ellen smiled nervously, making an innocent face.

The nurse nodded, unconvinced, and disappeared behind the white door. Ellen stood up and carrassed her mother's cheek. ‘I'll see you tommorow. Take care.ʼ

The brown eyes twitched with pain, but then the right corner of her mouth slightly lifted. Ellen left her in the empty room, her heart heavy like a tone of coal.

★

Things weren't as bad as they seemed to be. They really weren't. He would wake up every morning, finish the bottle from last night, drain another one before noon and lock himself up in his office room. He had to admit the drinking binge, along with the coke, got him into a peculiarly creavite mood. He spent his days with a box of cocaine on his desk and a notebook in front of his eyes, writing down every line that comes to his mind, then scratching it out and writing another one just to rip out the whole page and throw it in a bin. However, come to think of it, maybe it wasn't the most creative period of his life.

Seeing him in not his greatest, Janet decided to take Duncan for a trip to the seaside to spare him the view of his father stumbling around and cursing at the furniture. And David was very grateful, especially after the moment, when he saw a shade of fear in the big blue eyes of his first-born and it broke his heart to disappoint him like this. Angela was, as usual, God-knew-and-David-didn't-care where. Definitely not with their son, let alone by _his_ side. So he was alone. Alone and sore, not able to even recall what had got him to this point in the first place. He had always been broken though.

The phone rang and it was such a surprising sound, he almost fell out of the chair, forgetting of the existence of this device in his room.

‘_Hallo!_ʼ he sang in a deep voice, answering it.

‘You okay, bud?ʼ The man on the other side laughed.

David leaned back in his chair and placed his legs up on the desktop, crossing them at ankles. ‘I'm feeling wonderful, dear Micky! Mikeyy, Mikey-Mike!ʼ

‘Holy fuck, you're smashed again, aren't you?ʼ

‘Aren't _you?_ʼ

‘Actually no, Davy, I'm just—ʼ

David didn't even let him finish, his head exploding with this new idea. ‘So what are you waiting for?! You, me, the French and lots of drinks!ʼ

‘First of all—I hope you mean the pub—ʼ

‘I don't know who the fuck still calls it ‘the Frenchʼ but I could mean both,ʼ David cut in with a shrug.

‘—And second of all, I was about to hit that party in Southern London actually.ʼ

There was a cup on the desk, full of pencils and when David smashed that piece of furniture, it fell off, landing softly on a carpet. ‘Then why the fuck are you calling me?ʼ

‘To invite you, dickhead. I'm going to get pissed and get laid, not to sit in a pub over a beer, like a forty year old grandpa.ʼ

‘But I am forty years old and I want to see my friend,ʼ he fussed loudly like a child, but then his voice faltered and suddenly he felt tired and pain-wrecked. ‘Come on, I need to talk to someone, I think. I'm going mad.ʼ

There was a silence over the phone for a moment and finally Mick spoke, ‘Alright, I'll be there in an hour. _Don't_ be late! I think the barmaid wants to hook up with me and she's really not my type.ʼ

‘Are there any girls not your type?ʼ he scoffed under his breath.

‘Short blondes I guess. Expect for your wife, naturally,ʼ Jagger smirked. ‘Alright, boy, I'll see you in at the French then.ʼ

David put the phone receiver down on the hook and ignoring the spinning in his head, made his way to his wardrobe.

★

After visiting her mother in the hospital, Ellen came to Britford with Ryan and Jack. The car drove down the familiar tree road, being the main traffic route in the village, empty and clear as always. She looked at the window, recognising perfectly all the places - like the bakery she used to go to or a park she had once tripped over her bike in and twisted her ankle - almost missing it all. It was like going back home after a holiday break, expect the fact she felt an odd relief when they passed their parents' house, instead of parking in the driveway. She wondered if her father was home and if he knew about her coming. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than him not being aware of this fact. She didn't want to confront him.

The car stopped in front of a charming small house, made of brick, just like every other one here. There were purple flowers on each windowsill and a small garden showing from behind the house. On the stoop there was Lucy waiting to welcome them. She was wearing a white dress and her blonde hair were pulled back in a ponytail. It all looked like a fairytale life and Ellen felt a tiny sting of envy inside.

‘It's so good to see you, love,ʼ Lucy greeted her in a sweet voice, when they both hugged.

‘You too,ʼ she smiled.

‘Come inside, all of you, the dinner's almost ready!ʼ

Ellen always wondered how it'd happened that Ryan met this precious woman and got her to like him, let alone marry him. Lucy was a complete opposite of him, always nice to every neighbour, always smiling and an excellent baker. Not that Ryan was some nasty prick; he was a kind and lovely person to those he knew, very helpful and caring. But he struggled with his problems, which, by the way, were very similar to Ellen's, since they had both grown up in the same hell called their home.

Ellen shook off the bad memories and focused on eating her food. Once they finished, she helped Lucy to clean after dinner and went to the guest room she had prepared for her.

She was very grateful for their hospitality, but what's more, she was grateful for not bringing up the subject of her escape. Everyone knew the situation and Ryan told her multiple times it wasn't her fault, yet she kept doubting it. Right now, with her mother in hospital, she felt like she was obligated to come back but she wouldn't bear a single second in that house.

Later in the evening she went back to the hospital with Ryan but their mother's state didn't change a bit. I was very stressful though, because every time the door opened, she would turn around in panic, fearing it was her father. Luckily she managed to avoid him.

‘So how long are you staying?ʼ asked Ryan, when they were going back, his car roaring like a beast as he speeded up on a straight road. He stuck out his hand out the window and the wind shook the ashes from his cigarette.

‘I leave tommorow, first thing in the morning.ʼ Ellen said, drumming fingers gently on the surface of a dashboard. ‘I can't skip work again.ʼ

Ryan just nodded, both of his hands on the steering wheel now.

‘Do you think he did that to her?ʼ she wondered in a very quiet voice, as if saying it louder would make it true.

‘Strokes aren't mechanical injuries,ʼ he replied. ‘I mean, they kinda are, but it's not a bruise you can make. Sometimes it just happens, you know—For some unknown reasons.ʼ

She let out a sigh and after that they just stayed silent for the rest of the road.


	15. from kether to malkuth

She couldn't get any sleep. She was changing sides, shifting and squirming, but it wasn't caused by an uncomfortable position nor bed. Just the fact of being here, in Britford, felt so unnatural and wrong, it was like she lost some kind of a battle. She promised herself the she would never come back here and there she was. Feeling awful and defeated.

Tired of lying in bed idly, she decided to take a walk. She sneaked out of the house, trying not to wake anyone. She borrowed her brother's jacket and slowly closed the front door behind her. She almost screamed, when she noticed Ryan on the stoop. He fell asleep in a wicker chair, with a smoked-up cigarette in one hand and a bottle of beer in another. Ellen carefully took the bottle out of his hand and put it aside on a table, so he wouldn't drop it. There was a blanket folded on another chair, so she grabbed it and cover her brother with it. To look less like a good sister, she definitely wasn't, she stole a pack of cigarettes from the table.

Britford had always been a religious village, so the church here was located in a special place, upon a hill by the river. It was a small building. She didn't intend to go there, not tonight, therefore she turned left and slipped down the grassy bank. The night was beautiful and she had to admit there was one thing she really missed, which she didn't have in London. The stars.

She lied down on the grass and lit a cigarette, its glowing end and a full shiny moon being the only source of light now. Her eyes tried to embrace all the stars upon the dark calm sky, graced with the smoke rising up in the air. It was so quiet and the night silence was, indeed, the most calming sound.

‘Ellen?ʼ Hearing someone's voice in a place like this at two in the morning almost gave her a heart-attack.

‘Fuck!ʼ Ellen jumped in a surprise, dropping her cigarette onto her shirt. She got on her feet immediately and shook off the cinder before it burned through the fabric. ‘Poppy?! Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?ʼ

A tall skinny girl, who showed up in front of her out of blue, gave her a wide grin. ‘I knew I'd find you here! My dad told me he thought he saw you in a car with your brother and I just knew you would come here.ʼ

It was their favourite spot, back in the high school, they both used to come here at night and talk about school, boys, family issues. This is where Poppy taught her how to smoke and where they drank their very first beer. She had almost forgot – it seemed so long ago.

Poppy had changed since high school. She used to be a chubby-faced blonde and now her cheekbones were sharp and marking out her pointy nose. She had a mullet haircut, dyed red – and not ginger, just truly red as roses – although in the dark it looked more like brown with red reflection shown in the moonlight. Being dressed all black, those bizzare hair and dark lipstick contrasting with pale skin were the only visible elements of hers.

‘I'm only here for today, you know,ʼ Ellen told her.

Poppy sat down on the grass, a cigarette between her lips, and clicked a lighter. A little flame lit her face as she put it to the end of the cigarette. She took a puff and turned her face to Ellen. ‘Then come on, sit with me and let's talk! I haven't seen you for, like, ages!ʼ

Ellen sat next to her, the wet grass feeling cold under her trousers, and followed her steps, lighting a cigarette too. She didn't feel like explaining her own life choices, although that was probably inevitable, so before Poppy asked her anything, she went first. ‘So, America, eh? How was it?ʼ

‘Oh, it was incredible!ʼ Poppy exclaimed in a whisper. ‘I've seen eleven gigs, can you imagine? Eleven! Always from the front row, oh my God, I even made an eye contact with Mick once! I swear to God, those were the best two seconds of my life—ʼ She let out a dreamy sigh.

‘You are crazy,ʼ Ellen laughed, embracing her knees.

‘Crazy for him, duh! Anyway, so I've met a few amazing people, we were travelling in a group after Detroit and there was this girl who looked just like you! I swear, you have an American clone.ʼ

Ellen shook off the ashes from the cigarette. ‘I have one of those faces. Like, the generic face anyone can have.ʼ

‘That's not truth. I haven't met a single person with such big fucking eyes,ʼ she stated and lay back. ‘Even Carol, that's her name, didn't have ones. I swear one day they'll just pop out of your sockets and I hope I won't be there because, God, that would be a horror view!ʼ

Ellen scoffed, rolling her eyes. She was going to tell her off, but then she noticed a red and blue pin on her shoulder. The symbol on it rang a bell to her, but she couldn't tell where she had seen it before.

‘What's that one?ʼ she inquired, dabbing at the pin with a lightening on it, her brows knitted and before Poppy could even open her mouth, she suddenly remembered. An unpleasant sting went through her stomach, but she tried to ignore it. ‘Are you a David Bowie fan now?ʼ

Poppy gave her an astounded look. ‘You know David Bowie?!ʼ

The hand holding the cigarette trembled fractionally and she cursed herself for even mentioning it. ‘Yeah, a little,ʼ she shrugged as an answer, thankful Poppy couldn't see her face at the moment.

‘My, my!ʼ Poppy smacked her lips. ‘We're finally opening to genres other than classical music, aren't we?ʼ

‘Shut it,ʼ she rolled her eyes.

‘I've heard he's gonna do a little show next weekend in London. So I expect to see you there?ʼ she smirked, with a flicker of hope her eye.

The vision of attending his concert had been on her mind before but now it just made her uncomfortable and sweaty. ‘And how do you know I live in London now?ʼ

‘You were raised in village and village people never run to another village. You came early today and your mum was taken by an ambulance at seven in the morning, so you couldn't be far away—ʼ

‘Oh, so now you're a bloody Sherlock Holmes?ʼ Ellen cut it, rolling her eyes.

‘—And you have actually admitted it yourself, you know,ʼ Poppy finished with a satisfaction upon her face she didn't even intend to hide.

Ellen opened her mouth, but shut them eventually, having no words to say. She let out a short laugh and shook her head in bisbelief. Poppy had always been clever and tricky and, unlike the colour of her hair, this thing would never change. It was, however, very useful in their friendship, since Ellen wasn't much of a talker.

‘Sometimes I even miss this.ʼ Ellen took a puff and breathed out the smoke.

‘Yeah, tell me about it!ʼ

They both giggled like children. The night was warm and nice, which was a surprise, considering the rainy day. Ellen leaned back on her elbows, a cigarette held between her two fingers and for a moment she had carried back to their senior year. The only difference was that her bruises and wounds turned into scars and Poppy's hair turned into grated carrot. Yet, despite very few news, they hadn't changed a bit.

There was a thought in her head, a wish for everything to be at least a little easier. But it just couldn't be, not for her.

★

‘Pour us another round, would you?ʼ Mick turned around and raised his hand to draw barmaid's attention. She approached them and gathered two empty glasses from their table.

The pub David had chosen for them was very crowded and turned out to be a good choice because in that noise and clamour no one could eavesdrop on them. Usually they would take a table in the very centre of everything and gather more and more people around them, but this time David needed peace. They were sitting in a corner booth, Mick's arm was around David's shoulders, his hand hanging on the other side, while David's eyes kept jumping from one corner of the room to another, stopping at whatever caught his attention.

‘I struggle with difficulties of enjoying my life recently, Mick,ʼ David muttered as if the conversation regarded the weather. His right hand was crushing white powder with a credit card, cutting it and splitting on a smooth surface of the table.

‘What do you mean?ʼ A nervous laugh escaped Mick's lips for he did not seem to understand him.

The barmaid came back with their drinks and she put them on their table a little too energeticly, because some of the alcohol spilt. She grabbed a piece of clothe, that was tucked in her back pocket, but David put his hand on hers to stop her. ‘Leave it, luv, it'll dry itself in just a few moments.ʼ She nodded, looking down, and left them immediately.

‘I believe I mean what I have just said,ʼ David said with an irritated sigh.

‘Which is—?ʼ Mick didn't give the game away.

David looked him in the eyes, deadly serious and exhausted. He was going to say something really important, but before that he leaned over the table and snorted the white line. He ran his nose and wiped it with his hand, and then another thought just popped out in his head. ‘Do you think, if I asked NASA very nicely, they would allow me to shoot myself into space?ʼ

Mick sighed, putting both of his hands on David's shoulders and swap seats with him, so now David was sitting with his back to the rest of the room. The wall in front of him was covered in little stickers from the top down. Some of them had a popular alcohols logo on it, some were band stickers usually attached to vinyl records. It was a wall where people could freely stick anything they liked to and he found it very interesting.

‘David, darling, just focus, please,ʼ he told him, the concern in his eyes increasing. ‘What the fuck is going on?ʼ

‘I can't write a thing. I can't put together any piece of music. I have those fragments of melodies playing in my head but I seem to forget the notes whenever I take my guitar.ʼ He wasn't quite talking just about the music and to straighten that up, he added quietly: ‘I feel drained, sucked out and creased. I thought I found something that made me wanna fight and be a human again, but apparently everything is lost now.ʼ Suddenly he pointed a finger at the wall. ‘Oh, look, there's a T-Rex sticker! I loathe them.ʼ

Thoughts were appearing as quickly as they were vanishing from his mind. It was a tremendous state he was in and with every second he felt higher and higher above the ground.

‘Where's your wife? How come have you got so wiped out this early in the afternoon?ʼ

‘What do you mean? I opened a bottle and drank up like a good baby girl,ʼ he chuckled. ‘And about Angie, no idea. New York maybe, or Sanborn's bed? I really do not know.ʼ

Mick let out a sigh and raised his glass to take a drink. ‘You should slow down a little.ʼ

‘Whatever you say. Rock and roll, baby,ʼ he cheered in a bitter voice and drank his whiskey in one quick sip. ‘Come on, let's go to this party of yours! I'm bored of this rathole. Let something insane happen this night!ʼ He got on his feet and suddenly felt dizzy. His vision blurred even more and everything became faded in a dark fog.

★

The whole road home spent on an uncomfortable plastic chair in the train, Ellen was wondering how she would explain her yesterday absence at work. She really didn't want to go in details but without it, Mr Furlong could think of her as a irresponsible worker and she surely wasn't one. The raindrops were drumming against the window as the sky covered in thick dark clouds again. She glanced at a pink umbrella at her feet and a little smile twisted her lips.

In the end, despite the reason, visiting Britford wasn't as bad as she had thought it'd be. However, she still couldn't feel happy about it at all. She was worrying sick and as soon as she gets home, she will call Ryan to ask about her mother.

Finally, after an exhausting, both physically and mentally, journey, the train arrived at the station and all passengers started walking out to the platform. She took her bag and the umbrella and looked around to make sure none of her things were left on the seat. It was half past nine, which meant she still had more than an hour to go home and change her clothes, before rushing to work. She had planned to take the earlier train but because of her late chat with Poppy, she didn't manage to wake up on time. Luckily, there was a next one on the timetable, which got her to London right now.

Walking into her flat, she latched upon a terrible mess she had left there in a rush of last morning. She folded her umbrella and leaned it against the wall. Having dropped her bag onto bed, she took off a wet T-shirt and shorts to dress up in an ashy-grey buttoned dress. She did a subtle make up and brushed her hair before leaving to work. It took her less than ten minutes to get there and stress paralised her limbs as she put her hand on a door handle. She entered in and Mr Furlong greeted her with a smirk.

‘Miss Dean!ʼ He waved with his pipe theatrically. ‘I started to think you got sick of it and quitted without telling me!ʼ

She forced a smile and when she spoke, her voice was shaking. ‘I'm so sorry, I—My mother is in hospital and I had to see her—ʼ

‘Good Lord, is she alright?ʼ His face got serious and wrinkles around his eyes eased.

‘No, actually, I don't know, she's, um—My brother called me in the morning and I know I should've at least called you but it was all so quick and I wanted to get there as soon as possible and—ʼ she babbled, getting more and more nervous.

‘It's okay, really,ʼ Mr Furlong stopped her. ‘Don't be sorry, my dear child. It wasn't very busy, anyway, so I was alright. And if you need more time, it's no problem at all. Family's always first.ʼ

She cracked a sad smile. Family meant everything to her, it was all she had, but it surely wasn't what it should be. She appreciated his offer, but one day in Britford was more than enough. She was prepared for another trip in case Ryan calls her again, but there were no intentions of doing it of her own choosing. She was going to avoid it for as long as she could.

‘Thank you, sir, I'll stay for now. But next time I promise to call you and let you know first.ʼ

He nodded kindly. ‘Alright then. Would you deal with the store room now, please? I was going to clean it yesterday, but my back hurt like hell. I'm getting old, my child, you know, and the store room is constantly getting messy—ʼ

‘Of course, I'll just get the cleaners.ʼ

Being back at work was good to her. She managed to let go of thinking about her mother, Ryan, Poppy and everything else related to her home. Being back at work though, brought up the other problem that was bothering her and the feeling of hurt didn't go away. Every time the little ring above the front door tinkled, she would turn around immediately with an odd mix of fear and hope. There's was a part of her that really wanted _him_ to appear in the shop. She wanted to talk with him, tell him all about her mother, she wanted to hear his comforting voice and feel his soothing touch on her skin. But she was also really afraid to look him in the eyes. She had already stopped being mad for what he did and that scared her because he was her weakness and she had a feeling it would end her up broken once again.

Luckily, or not, he did not show up. Not today, nor in the next five days.


	16. there are you

It wasn't until Saturday that he woke up and decided not to start day off with a drink. He didn't grow in wisdom all of sudden though, it was his stomach clenched like a fist of a fighter, which simply didn't allow him to take anything in. His limbs were shaking as he walked to the bathroom and turned on the tap. He looked up into a gold framed mirror. A face that stared back at him reminded him of a corpse found in a river that he had once seen a picture of in some book. It was pale, skin almost transparent, with widespread shadows encircling the bloodshot eyes. Only the eyes, with unmatching pupils, warranted it was still him in that reflection. Although, right now, he wasn't even sure whether he had pupils like that before or it was just some sort of a high daydream.

He cleansed his face with cold water and felt a sharp smarting on his left cheek. He touched it, looking at it in the mirror. There was a shallow cut on his cheekbone, which was much more of intriguing than serious or damaging. With a hand upon his face, he noticed that his arms were also full of little cuts just like that one and bruises, some of them fresh and some almost faded. He knitted his brows, trying to remember anything he had been doing for the last few days, but it was just a black hole inside his head. It had to stop, _he _had to stop it.

He stepped into the shower, choosing it over a bathtub today, because in a short flash of sobriety he thought he might actually fall asleep and drown in a bath. The water was dropping over his naked and stiff body like from a watering pot and the feeling of tiredness seemed to be washed away along with the sweat and the stuffy smell of cigarettes.

It took him longer that a regular shower, because standing there, with his eyes closed and allowing the water to rain down on him, he completely lost all sense of time. By the time he turned the tap off and got out of the walk-in-shower, his fingertips were all wrinkled and pruney. He felt as if he had spent there at least ten years.

Walking into a wardrobe, he passed colourful and sparkly clothes, to find himself in front of a long rack with elegant monochromatic suits. He chose a white shirt and grey trousers and dressed in them. He already looked like rubbish so at least he could wear some neat clothes. His hands were still shaky, having trouble with buttoning the shirt. On the edge of nerves, in his mind he had ripped it off and thrown it away in anger about five or six times. Half way through, he decided to take a break and have a smoke. It was his first cigarette since he woke up, which was a bit surprising, because normally his lungs would burn in craving by now. He sat down and let the sweet nicotine be the first drug today to calm his mind. After that he was ready to give the shirt one more chance.

It was quite early in the morning, which actually meant it was still the morning, not the noon. The big house was empty, like it had been probably for a while. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a carton of full-fat milk from the fridge door. Hoping it was still fresh, he took a large sip and cold liquid went through his gullet down to the stomach. His eyes were caught by a little note stuck to the side of the fridge. It was written in his handwriting and it said something about a show tonight. The coke wearing off must've taken half of his brain with itself, because he had some serious issues with memories, even those from before that short binge. It wasn't that bad though, compared to the previous year, which he didn't remember a single moment from.

He ran fingers through his hair. If he had a gig tonight, there had been a rehearsal yesterday. He wondered if he had even shown up and the answer came sooner then he'd thought, when he saw his twelve-string guitar, tossed in the corner of the hall. He would always take it with him to concerts, the guitar he composed songs with. There were plenty of instruments he possessed, but this one was always with him, somehow so important. And that was the main reason he really should've been more careful with it. He opened the case and pulled the instrument out of it to see it was missing two strings. He let out a sigh and laid it back inside the padded case.

The note he had left for himself didn't include any other information. He still had no idea where or when should he be for the show. He went to his office, ignoring empty bottles, crunched papers and all that mess, and dialled a number on the phone.

‘Hi, Tony, dear, could you remind me, please, where's the gig tonight happening?ʼ he muttered, holding the receiver on his shoulder.

There was an irritated scoff on the other side. ‘For the last time, David, I am your producer, not your manager. How am I supposed to know?ʼ

‘I don't know, I have this mystique, distinct feeling insideʼ—he murmured in a thrilling voice—‘that of all the people in the world, you are the only one who always knows things.ʼ

‘Well,ʼ Tony sighed giving up. ‘I think Danny was talking something about Tottenham Royal, eight o'clock?ʼ

That name actually rang a bell, so David clapped his hands. ‘Yes, that must be it! Thank you, you truly are a gold man. Will you come, by the way? I expect there to be a party after that.ʼ

‘I have to go to Cardiff, business call, won't be home till Monday.ʼ

‘See you on Monday then?ʼ David enjoyed idly small talks and he never had problems with leading one, but right not he just wanted the phone call to be over, because if the show was tonight, then he had so many things to do first it gave him a headache.

‘Yeah, see you.ʼ

After hanging up, he stood up and started going in circles, scratching his neck nervously. He was terrible at planning his day, let alone following this plan, but right now he had to focus. First and probably the most thrilling thing he had to do, was get new strings to his guitar. He could go anywhere, there were plenty of music shops around, he could also send someone to buy them. He could, but he wouldn't be himself if he hadn't just chosen the stupidest option. He tried to explain this to himself, using excuses like the fact he actually needed those strings, but the truth was he just felt this irresistible need to go there and see her again. Even if she would yell at him and fling him out. It was worth giving it a shot anyway.

At first he got the impression that the shop was closed because the blinds were pulled down and there was no light on inside. He pushed the door and it opened, the little ring above it tinkling gently. Inside the shop it was, indeed, dark and very quiet, only a soft music was playing in the background. He didn't see anyone, apparently they were in the store room, so he decided to wait patiently. He approached a shelf with folk music records and started going through them. Having not found anything interesting, he sat down on a piano stool and opened the fallboard to play a little. His fingers barely touched the keys, when he heard footsteps behind him.

‘How can I help you, sir?ʼ Her voice was impassive, but a little shaky.

He turned around and saw her standing by the counter. It was both soothing and distressful. Hadn't he realised it before, now there was no doubt he missed her. He was lacking those big blue eyes staring right at him, even though now they seemed to be so cold that it felt like a punch in the face.

‘I was wondering if I can buy here strings. To a twelve-string guitar,ʼ he added, standing up and fixing his shirt.

‘I will—I will check the store room.ʼ She dissappeared behind a door.

‘I play a twelve-string, you know,ʼ he told her in a louder voice, so she could hear it in the other room, and leaned on the counter. ‘I'm quite good at it. I'm a musician. My and my boys are playing a gig today—ʼ

When she came back to the counter, she startled a little, not expecting him so close. Her hands were clenching the two flat packs. ‘Here are the two last ones.ʼ

He grabbed them but didn't took them from her, so they both were holding the opposite sides of the packs. ‘Are you sure these are for a twelve-string?ʼ he asked, a subtle smirk crawling on his lips.

Her eyes flickered and she almost cracked a smile, but then she let go of the strings and looked down. ‘Yes, they are. And we don't accept complaints after the purchase.ʼ

He chuckled at the fact she caught that silly inside joke, feeling this was all going in the right direction. Maybe he hadn't fuck things up irreparably after all.

She typed the price into a cash register and printed a receipt for him. ‘That'll be ten pounds.ʼ

‘Ellen—ʼ he started, dropping the game, and laid his hand on top of hers, as she was sliding the receipt towards him. ‘Talk to me, please. Let me explain.ʼ

Mr Furlong wasn't in the shop, so it was his very last chance to make things right. She raised her eyes to face him and he couldn't help but notice they were shining with tears. He crossed the counter and grabbed her shoulders very gently, ‘I am terribly sorry for that, please, don't be mad at me. I cannot bear the awareness I have made you upset for even one second.ʼ

‘I'm not mad or upset at you, David,ʼ she told him, her voice faltered. ‘I'm just—mad and upset. And very tired.ʼ

The feeling of relief was quickly replaced with worry. If he wasn't the one making her feel this way, then who or what was?

She let him embrace her and nestled up to him. When he was holding her in his arm, he was ready to push away every sadness and bad emotions around her. ‘What happened, my darling?ʼ

Ellen pulled herself away from him and sighed. ‘I don't think I should be telling you this. Not now and not here. And about your wife and all the rest—You must know I don't blame you. She's a really pretty woman. I just wished you'd told me, that's all.ʼ She sounded so painfully resigned, he never wanted to let her go.

‘Ellen, love—ʼ He wanted to keep excusing himself but it was pointless. ‘You don't even know how sorry I am. I fucked up and I wish I had done _something_, but I have nothing in my defense.ʼ

‘It's okay. I didn't ask, did I? I should've known,ʼ she shrugged. ‘Let's just—Let's not talk about it.ʼ

He nodded. It still gave him nothing, he didn't know where they were standing now. But he was guessing she needed time.

‘So you, er—wanna grab a coffee after my work?ʼ She bit her lip, playing with her fingers shily.

His first thought was of course saying yes. Yes! There was nothing he wanted more right now than simply to have a coffee with her and chat about everything until the dawn while smoking cigarettes, just like they used to. But then he remembered about the show. ‘I want to, more than anything, but I'm afraid I can't this evening. I'm playing a gig at Tottenham Royal.ʼ

She didn't seem to be surprised, but the sparkles in her eyes faded. ‘Oh, right.ʼ

‘Maybe you wanna come and see it?ʼ he asked with a flicker of hope. ‘It starts at eight.ʼ

‘I don't know. I'm not in the best mood.ʼ She was hesitating but she didn't say no.

‘Come on!ʼ he encouraged her. ‘I promise you'll like it. I am quite a performer,ʼ he gave her a nonchalant simper, putting a cigarette in his mouth.

A short but genuine laugh escaped her lips and it made his heart flutter with joy. ‘I believe you.ʼ

‘Do you, though?ʼ A zippo lighter clicked and he moved the flame closer to the end of the cigarette, glancing at her carefully.

She flushed with crimson red, which instantly made him want to grab her and press his lips against hers without asking. He desired her touch and her smile, and oh God, he desired those lips. Regaining her trust demanded patience though, so he just waved away that thought and drew his wallet to pay for the strings. He put a ten pound note on the counter.

‘I will be looking for you in the crowd anyway, you know,ʼ he said, giving up on persisting, but not on the hope to see her this evening. He grabbed the strings before turning around and forced himself to leave.

★

Once he was gone, she flopped into a chair and hid face in her hands. A foolish smile was making its way onto her lips and she couldn't do anything about it, just shook her head. She had a heartbeat faster than a mouse being chased by a cat. She hadn't seen him in such a long time, his visit was actually the most surprising event in the last few days. And she was really happy to see him. She missed him, she was afraid to admit it, but she really missed him and it was terrible news. When Poppy asked her to go to see that show with her, she was convinced she wouldn't do it, but right now she had some serious second thoughts about that. After all, it was _him _who asked her this time. And for some reason, his confidence and charisma caused her to not be able to simply say no to him.

When the clock stroke seven, Mr Furlong came back to the shop. She had made up her mind by then, so as soon as he sat down comfortably by the counter, she approached him and started, shily, ‘Sir—Is that okay if I leave earlier today?ʼ

He looked at her and let out a cloud of smoke. ‘Of course. Is it your mother? Is everything alright?ʼ

‘No, she's fine,ʼ she shook her head instantly. ‘I just, er—David asked me if I would come to see his performance tonight.ʼ

She was waiting for his reaction a bit stressed, not sure if she should tell him the truth, especially after he warned her about him the other day. To her surprise, he just clapped his hands and exclaimed, ‘You definitely should go then! The shop is closing in an hour and I don't think anything will happen in that time. Go and have fun, child!ʼ

‘Thank you, sir,ʼ, she beamed, bowing a little. ‘I have cleaned the instruments and unboxed the new records from the store room, so I—ʼ

‘Just go!ʼ he laughed. ‘Or you'll be late!ʼ

She thanked him a few more times and having grabbed her bag, ran out of the shop.

★

The lights were out and it was stuffy inside the chamber hall. People were whispering with excitement and impatience, which was infecting even Ellen. She looked around and tried to see anything in the darkness, but then a funky intro music started playing and a few moments later the lights turned on. Just hundreds of little lights, like on a Christmas tree, purple, yellow and green lighting up the stage, where a thin silhouette had just appeared to everyone's applaud. As David took a microphone in his hand, a cigarette in the other one, and let out the first verse, the audience started screaming so loud, Ellen almost had a heart-attack.

‘_Fame makes a man take things over,ʼ _he sang with shade of aggression, shifting the microphone from one hand to another. ‘_Fame lets him loose, hard to swallow! Fame puts you there where things are hollow!ʼ_

Had she ever been to a concert gig before, she would probably still not be ready for this. On the stage, David was a completely different man. Confident and charming, so flawless, but in another way than in private. He had this energy that was making others feel capable of literally anything. His dance moves to the funky sounds were one of the greatest view she had ever seen, causing her to giggle happily like a little girl. Everyone around her knew every single word of the songs he was singing, yet they weren't crying them, instead they would just sang them quietly under their breaths, with their eyes focused on the amazing man in a blue suit and perfect slicked back hair, standing in the spotlight. It wasn't a until the last notes of the song fell silent, when the audience finally gave him a long-lasting applaud.

‘Good evening, London,ʼ he spoke into the microphone, his voice so sweet and polite it was always unbelievable it belonged to the same person that had just been singing that song. ‘I hope to entertain you tonight.ʼ

Drums started playing first and soon they were followed by the rest of instruments to create all together the melody of another lively and energetic song. Ellen was really enjoying the show, and even this crowded, stuffy hall they were in was more and more tolerable with every minute of it. She had never heard so many of his songs and she had to admit they were, in fact, amazing. No wonder, all these people didn't just pop in here to see who's playing, they all were here for him.

After finishing another piece, fifth or maybe sixth, David pulled away from the mic to take a breath. In the spotlights she could see drops of sweat on his forehead, and wisps of his perfect hair now were hanging down over his brow, so he had to brush them away from time to time. He leaned over the microphone again and said to the audience, ‘The next one I'm gonna do, it's a cover from a film called _Dames. _You see, I've never actually done it onstage before, so I'm hoping you will let me know when it's awful,ʼ he chuckled and the lights turned from colourful to warm white.

There was a complete silence when he started playing his guitar, and her heart skipped the beat the second she recognised the song. It was a beautiful version, without unnecessary background choir or other instruments. Just the guitar and his soothing voice.

_‘I don't know if we're in a garden or on a crowded avenue—ʼ_

She was mouthing the words with him, a hundred butterflies fluttering inside her stomach, as she was remembering every bit of the night they were lying on her bed and staring at the sky through the window. With the last verse, he managed to catch her in the audience and his lips stretched in a subtle smile. He hid it, looking down at his guitar, but then he laid his eyes back on her and didn't moved them until the song was over.

_‘—maybe millions of people go by, but they all disappear from view and I only have eyes for you.ʼ_

It was stupid, it was so stupid. She felt stupid. Luckily for her, none of the people near her noticed who he was looking at. Her cheeks were burning and her heart was a flaming torch. He ruined it. He had ruined such a beautiful song, turned it personal and intimate, and she knew that from now on she would never be able to hear it without sparing a single thought on him. He messed with her head and her heart so badly, and she was letting him do whatever he pleased, despite her desperate brain yelling at her to stop it. She only had eyes for him, but life surely wasn't a romance novel.


	17. drive like a demon

Once the show was over, Ellen's head remained filled with unnamed emotions. Each of them revolving around that one person. It was one of those moments when she felt it should lead her somewhere, but instead she was just straying inside her mind like a child lost in a forest. She left the building and lit a cigarette, leaning her back against the wall. All the people moved from the inside onto the streets, standing in front of the door now and waiting. Ellen was unconsciously trying to spy Poppy in that crowd, but it was too dark now and at least a third of people had a red mullet. She ground out her cigarette with the tip of her shoe and suddenly she felt someone tugging on her left arm. She startled and wrenched herself free.

‘Woah, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!ʼ David chuckled. His face was hidden under the shadow of his hat, yet she could tell it was him just by the way his perfume filled her nose and his warm laughter vibrated in her ears.

‘What are you doing here?ʼ she asked, as they were standing behind the corner of the building, the crowd still gathered front of it. ‘They're all waiting for you to come.ʼ

‘I had to see if you liked it.ʼ He pulled a cigarette and put it between his lips.

As a group of people was passing by, one of them glanced at the alley they were standing im. Both of them were quite far and in the shadow, so they were hard to see, let alone recognise. Regardless of that, as soon as the group had walked away, David took her hand and guided her to the back of the building, peeping nervously behind from time to time. Not until they had been safe from anyone's sight, did he finally calm. He sat down on the first step of concrete stairs leading to the raised platform for delivery. Taking a seat next to him, she curled up with her knees up to her chin.

‘So, what do you think?ʼ David finally asked.

‘You like hearing compliments, don't you?ʼ she smirked.

‘I like hearing words from your lips,ʼ he murmured, stretching his legs in his seat. ‘If I wanted to hear compliments, I'd go out there and ask them.ʼ He indicated behind their back with a tilt of his head.

‘What do you expect me to say? You know you're just—amazing. On stage, I mean,ʼ she added, feeling the heat burning her cheeks.

‘And not on stage?ʼ he inquired, his stare piercing through her so intensely it gave her chills.

‘I don't—ʼ Her confusion disappeared as she felt a sudden uprush of fluster. She put down the cigarette and crossed her arms. ‘Why are you doing this? Just why? Are you enjoying this?ʼ

‘What if I am?ʼ he provoked, rising one eyebrow. They were too close to each other and she could almost feel his warmth on her skin.

‘This is so fucked up, David, I can't do this.ʼ She shook her head, lowering her gaze.

‘Do what, silly?ʼ he laughed purely, shaking ashes off on the ground.

She shouldn't have came here in the first place, it was so stupid of her to think that was an actual good idea, when it wasn't any close to being good. She stood up rapidly, thinking this conversation as a waste of time, but then she felt a cold grasp on her wrist.

‘Don't, please.ʼ She stared down at him and his eyes were serious now, sparkling with longing, anxiety and nervousness. ‘I'm sorry. I will be listening now, I promise. Just tell me what's on your mind.ʼ

Ellen sloughed and sat back down. ‘Just don't think of me stupid, okay? I'm just—I don't feel good with this. I honestly do not know what it's all about, why you act this way, why _I _act this way. It scares me and you're not making it any easier. I mean, that song? You mess with my head and I don't know why you're doing this. It's so stupid and so hard and—ʼ

‘Sometimes thinking about certain things only makes it worse,ʼ he admitted, his lips twisted in a bleak smile, breathing out a plume of smoke.

‘I can't take life as frivolously as you do.ʼ

‘Don't draw such conclusions based on my behaviour only, darling,ʼ he snapped at her.

Ellen was stunned but also struck by the reality of his words and she couldn't argue with that. She did leap to conclusions just by the way he acted when he was with her. There was still so much she didn't know about him. After all, even the fact of him being married was discovered by her only a week ago. Who knew what else he was hiding? A person's life isn't just one storyline, it's hundreds of underplots interlacing with each other. She didn't tell him everything about herself either.

Suddenly they were blinded by two headlights as a car drove in the backs, where they were sitting. She squinted to look closer and she saw a black hackney cab. It pulled over ten feet apart and turned the engine off, along with the lights.

‘This is me,ʼ David said, glancing at the taxi, but didn't move a bit.

‘Oh. So I guess I'll just go—ʼ

‘Come with me,ʼ he proposed, a bit out of blue. ‘There's a party at this place, there'll be lots of people you'd love to meet.ʼ

‘Have you lost your mind?ʼ she squealed in a quiet voice.

‘No, I haven't, last time I checked no.ʼ

‘I'm a nobody and they're all gonna talk. Besides, your wife—ʼ

‘We agreed on not talking about it anymore, didn't we?ʼ he grunted.

‘That doesn't mean I will just ignore it!ʼ She rose to her feet, clenching her fists in anger.

He stood up as well and now he was glaring down at her, since he was much taller. ‘I was a mess for the whole week, shattered and not able to do a thing, even pour myself a bloody drink, and she didn't even call to check on me once. This is how much she cares. And the whole time I didn't even think about her once, and this is how much _I _care.ʼ

It was the first time he made a faint shade of confession about his private life to her, revealing two important matters at once. His marriage issues and that ‘being a messʼ part she didn't quite understood at that time. At any other point, she would try to get him to open up more, because she really wanted to know about every tiniest thing that was making his gaze look so tired and low, just so she could fix it or at least help him get through. But his tone suggested that this wasn't a confession, it was more of a statement needed as an argument to lay the case clearer.

Ellen surveyed carefully every detail of his face searching for a trace of lies about the last sentence he said, but he was so calm and controlled, that the only thing she saw in his stare was her own uncertainty.

She cast her eyes down. ‘I'm sorry, I'm won't do this. Have fun.ʼ

‘Alright.ʼ He stood up. ‘So, where?ʼ

‘What where?ʼ

‘Where are we going?ʼ he inquired with impatience. ‘You told me to have fun, so I presume you're taking me some place fun.ʼ She gave him a confused stare. ‘I am not going to enjoy such a wonderful evening without you.ʼ

‘You have lost your mind, haven't you?ʼ she stated in disbelief, but took his hand when he offered it. ‘I don't quite—I don't know the city, I'm not a fun person at all!ʼ

He dragged her to the cab like a child demanding to be pushed him on a swing. ‘Alright then, I will take you to a place.ʼ

‘No, please, I really don't want to go to that party.ʼ The panic was rising in her veins, pinching her skull.

‘Oh, forget the party, woman! I will show you something much better than a bunch of idiots dressed up like a circus troupe with their egos as tall as the Eiffel Tower!ʼ

She only had seen few of his odd stage creations, in a magazine and on album covers, yet she couldn't help but giggle at him calling anyone that. ‘How is the circus troupe gonna get on without their leader?ʼ

‘How very fucking dare you?!ʼ he snorted, faking an outrage, his hand holding open the back door to the car.

Ellen shrugged with a smirk and bent to go under his arm and get in the taxi. David walked to the driver in the front seat. The driver opened the window and David said something to him in a lowered voice. After that he came back to follow her steps, getting in and sitting next to her. The confusion still didn't leave her face, as he tapped on the driver's shoulder and with a throbing engine, the taxi started to drive.

‘Where are we going?ʼ she asked, looking out the window at the streets they were leaving behind.

‘You'll see,ʼ he replied vaguely, lighting a cigarette. Soon the cab was filled with smoke, so she cracked the window open to let some fresh air in.

His evasive answer caused her to fall silent, because there was no point in further inquiring. The only thing left to do was to wait and find out soon. Being taken away in a taxi by a man whom she, in fact, knew so little and not having at least a slight panic attack, was a proof of sort of a trust she put in him. Although she still couldn't fully trust him with her own heart, she did believe he had no intention to harm her. There were many other thoughts inside her head telling her why it was a mistake to go with him anywhere, most of them including him having a bloody wife. However, when he offered her his cigarette and, despite having her own pack, she took it just for their fingers to touch for a short moment, she knew all of that didn't matter right now. It was too late for pretending he meant nothing to her.

Although they stayed quiet the entire drive, middle seat empty between them ljke an insivible barrier, at some point David's fingers unconsciously brushed her hand again and they just remained there for a longer time. Those little gestures sent nice warm shivers down her spine.

After half an hour, the taxi stopped and Ellen looked out the window to see a big house in front of them. Once they got out of the car, she could take a better look at the place. The building was huge and had many large windows with white frames. The walls were made of grey stone and left side was wrapped in ivy, falling freely like a waterfall from a red mansard roof. There were no flowers on the windowsills though, no toys or furniture on the stoop. Even the garden behind the house was wild and turning into a forest. The house was beautiful, yet it looked like no one had ever lived there.

David searched his pockets and made a rattling sound. She looked at him to see a bunch of keys in his hand.

‘Is this your house?ʼ

‘Yeh,ʼ he puffed briefly. ‘We're not going in though, I only wanted to switch cars.ʼ

The black taxi that got them here, drove away and she didn't even realise when. David unlocked a garage door and pushed it up. It opened with a loud screeching noise, revealing the inside. It was a typical, messy garage combined with a workshop space. Left wall was full of tools, hung on hooks and below them there was a long wooden counter. But what caught her eye the most was, of course, the car. It was a black jaguar e-type. Ellen didn't know much about cars but she did have a brother and when Ryan was a child, he used to clip every picture of a car like this from magazines and stick it onto his wall. For a moment he was even seriously considering selling one of his kidneys in order to buy that car. She giggled at that memory.

David approached the vehicle and shut the bonnet. ‘I only hope we'll make it, 'cause this oldie barely breathes.ʼ

He took off his jacket and having thrown it on the backseat, he jumped into the driver's seat. Ellen was still standing there, confused and not sure what to do, so he leaned to open the door for her. ‘Are you coming or not? Darling, the night won't last forever.ʼ

‘Why can't you just tell me where we're going? I am genuinely getting nervous,ʼ she told him, but got into the car obediently and shut the door.

‘I've already told you, it's not my fault you're not listening,ʼ he said, turning the key the engine. ‘It's not far, we'll be there in ten minutes.ʼ

Along with the engine, the radio turned on and played a smooth jazz song. The sky was dark as they were moving through empty roads of village, she couldn't see anything but the little piece of the carriageway and tree trunks lighted by the headlights. The roof was lowered and she could feel the summer wind on her face, easing the tension from the muscles. David's eyes were fixed on the road, but he was driving with only one hand on the wheel, the other one holding a cigarette.

The song on the radio changed and as soon as she recognised it, the lyrics began to escape her lips unconsciously. ‘The falling leaves drift by my window, the autumn leaves of red and gold—ʼ

The music wasn't loud, but she sang even more quietly and shily, her gaze spying on the trees they were passing by.

‘_I see your lips, the summer kisses _  
_The sunburned hand I used to hold,ʼ_ he joined in, with a smile crawling upon his lips.

She stopped, feeling embarrassed, her cheeks starting to burn as always. She covered them with her hands and looked away, but for some reason continued on crooning softly. With him not paying attention on her voice, not criticising it, she felt a little more confident, so they both were singing and grinning at the road in front of them.

‘_C'est une chanson, qui nous ressemble_,ʼ he mimicked the singer's sophisticated manner, waving his hand like a lady at a banquet. ‘_Toi tu m'aimais et je t'aimais, nous vivions tous les deux ensemble! Toi qui m'aimais, moi qui t'aimais!_ʼ

His little show made her both impressed and amused, so she burst into laughter, which ended their singing. ‘Oh my, you're such an authentic posh saloon woman!ʼ

‘Posh saloon woman, are you joking?ʼ he laughed, a little resented. ‘Eartha Kitt is one of my favourite female artists. I truly love that woman, she's just incredible.ʼ

‘So does Mr Furlong, I presume, since I've heard this song like a thousand times at work,ʼ she rolled her eyes, which caused him chuckle.

‘When I was fourteen I had this book, her autobiography, called Thursday's Child. It was my favourite bedtime book, to be honest,ʼ he told her, the grin upon his face making him look like a teenager again. ‘It must still be somewhere in the attic of my old house—ʼ

She listened to his words, but focusing more on the sound of his voice itself. It was so nice and soothing, she could have it recorded and listen to it before sleep. His manner was so lazy and casual, but the way he phrased the sentences so elegant, it was like he was always having a tea party with the royal family.

‘We're here,ʼ he announced and turned the engine off.

Ellen looked around and saw nothing but trees and a dead end of the road. ‘Which is—?ʼ

‘Okay, so technically we're still not there, we have to walk a little, but I promise it's only a few feet away!ʼ

They got out of the car and David reached for another cigarette before leading them upon a hill. The higher they climbed the rocky path, the more the forest was starting to thin out. Once they reached the top of the hill, they found themselves on a meadow strewn with little yellow flowers.

‘Okay, now look at me, would you, darling?ʼ he turned to her to catch her stare. ‘Don't look around, just focus your eyes on me.ʼ

She was getting more and more confused with his specific requests but always followed them. He put both hands on her arms, standing in front of her, at the very centre of the meadow. The wind was playing with his hair, so he had to flick it back.

‘Now look up.ʼ

Ellen raised her gaze and almost let out a loud gasp as her eyes landed upon the dark sky filled with billions of flickering stars. Never in her life had she seen so many of them, not at once and this view was breathtaking. She lay down on the grass to have a more comfortable position, but didn't let the sky off her sight for a second, afraid it might disappear any moment. ‘This is so—mesmerising.ʼ

David sat next to her, with a wide smile revealing the dimples in his cheeks. ‘I knew you'd like it. I told you, remember? That I will show you a spot, where you can observe the stars.ʼ

Her face beamed. He remembered that. He remembered how she missed the starry nights. And the spot was truly perfect, far from the city, on a hill, quiet and calm. The only sound surrounding them was the soft chirring somewhere in the grass and the whistle of the wind.

‘When I was littleʼ—she said quietly as if she didn't want to startle the star above—‘I used to count the stars before sleep.ʼ

‘And how many of them were there, according to little Ellen Dean?ʼ He pulled a pack of cigarettes and offered her one.

‘Too many,ʼ she chuckled, lighting the cigarette. ‘I could barely count to ten back then. And I usually lost count at twenty, tops. But then I read that there are one hundred thousand million of them, in the Milky Way, and I gave up, because that was definitely more than ten.ʼ

David let out a little laugh and leaned on his elbows, so he could study the firmament above them.

‘It's tremendous, isn't it? The space.ʼ He drew on his cigarette and let out plumes of smoke. ‘There a whole universe out there and we're stuck on one planet. Imagine how many more we could see! How much there is, so different we can't possibly imagine it at all!ʼ

Her heart was fluttering as she thought about the whole situation they were in. It seemed to be almost like a dream she was going to wake up from any minute now. Listening to him wondering about the mystery of the universe, laughing at the stories from his childhood, smoking cigarettes, she realised that more than missing the starry sky, she had missed his presence in her life.

A sudden blow of wind picked the leaves up from the ground and danced with them in a wide swirl. It was loud and disturbing, but it wouldn't distract them if it wasn't for the thick dark cloud that started to cover the sky. They hadn't managed to do anything, before it dropped first heavy raindrops and a few minutes later it was pouring rain.

‘Oh my God!ʼ she squealed, trying to protect herself from the rain by covering her head with her hands, but it was as effective as it sounds.

‘Come on, let's go back to the car!ʼ he outshouted the thunders, taking her hand.

They ran down the rocky path, but it was raining was so intensively, they were both soaking wet by the time they got in the car. Luckily, David had raised the roof before, so the rain didn't get inside. He started the engine and turned around the car. The water was dripping off Ellen's hair onto her clothes, but they were wet as well, so it didn't make any difference to her. David's white shirt was sticking to his body and she couldn't think of anything, but the fact that it was his second shirt that was ruined because of her.

After a moment of silence and spitting out the water falling from their hair down their faces, they took a quick glance at each other and burst into laughter.

He shook his head in disbelief. ‘I did not expect that!ʼ

‘Neither did I! I didn't even expect I'd be out tonight—ʼ

‘Do you regret it?ʼ

‘How could I?ʼ she giggled, her teeth chattering as she felt a little cold.

It didn't escape his attention, so he reached to the backseat for the jacket and placed it on her lap. ‘Wear this, please. The heating's broke, but we'll be home in a few minutes.ʼ

The jacket of his stage suit looked very expensive. It had a silk lining and she felt bad with just touching it. However, his concerned look told her she couldn't refuse, so she covered her shoulders with it and felt immediately much warmer.

As soon as David parked his car in the garage, he rushed to open the door for her, which obviously made her blush again. She got out of the vehicle and just before stepping through the door to his house, she stopped with hesitance.

‘What's wrong?ʼ

‘Is—Is there anybody home?ʼ she stuttered.

He gave her a weak smile, holding the door open. ‘No. It's been empty for days.ʼ

Ellen bit her lip and came in, deciding to stop thinking about it, at least for tonight.

‘So, like I said, no one's been there in days, no one except me, and I gave my cleaning lady those few days off, and it's probably more messy than I remembered it from the morning—ʼ He dropped the keys on a shelf and invited her in with a subtle wave of his arm.

She did a few more steps inside and when she passed the corner, a big spacious living room appeared to her eyes. It was full of old furniture from previous century, with wooden carvings and velvet cushions. The walls were decorated with paintings in gold frames, painting of surreal art, contrasting, yet somehow matching the rest of the interior. The coffee table was full of empty bottles, cigarette ends and ashes, but she didn't mind the muddle, it only worried her. He had told her today that he was a mess but seeing its effects was much more painful.

She looked around, huddling againgst the cold that freezed through her body.

‘You're still shivering, love,ʼ he noticed. ‘You take a hot shower, the bathroom is at the end of the hall. And I'll bring you some dry clothes to change.ʼ

★

While Ellen was taking a shower, he changed his clothes and did his best to clean the place a little. All the empty bottles landed in a bin and the piles of dirty clothes were thrown into a wardrobe, being used to wipe the furniture from sticky alcohol stains and cigarette ashes first. By the time she finished, it was at least bearable to sit in that room, without having a feeling it had been occupied by a group of teenagers by the absence of their parents.

He felt a tickling in his stomach as he looked at her. Her hair was still wet and she was drying it with a towel, when she walked out of the bathroom. He didn't want to give her his wife's clothes, for that would be uncomfortable for both of them. Instead, she was wearing one of his casual shirts and because of the height difference between them, it fitted her as a dress. Her shapely legs were looking so good in it, that he had to force himself not to stare boldly.

He had no idea what to do next. There were very few situations which made him feel this way, but this was definitely one of them. Taking her out tonight, he had no idea, nor plans, that they would end up in his house. He didn't mind having her here, in fact he didn't mind having her anywhere if only it was by his side. She was a sweet creature, a beam of sunshine tearing through the thick wall he had been building around himself.

‘Do you want a drink?ʼ he asked, approaching the mini-bar and pulled out a bottle of Scotch.

‘Um—Wine would be nice.ʼ

He poured two drinks and sat on a couch. She was taking a closer look at every little item in the room with interest in her eyes, so he let do it for as long as she wanted, watching her with two glasses in his hands and a smile upon his face. She glanced at him finally and took her glass.

‘You've got a really beautiful house. Are those yours?ʼ She pointed at the paintings, coming a little closer.

‘Some of them, yes,ʼ he replied. ‘I'm sorry for the weather. I honestly didn't know.ʼ

‘It's okay. I saved that picture up in my memory, in a special place.ʼ She gave him a tentative smile and took a sip of the wine, sitting in an armchair. ‘I always do that. Just in case, because nothing's permanent.ʼ

‘Nothing is permanent,ʼ he repeated hollowly. ‘We can come back there, whenever you wish, though.ʼ

She embraced her knees and smiled in the prettiest way. ‘I'd love to.ʼ

The rain was banging loudly against the wide windows and from time to time there was a sudden flash of light, followed by a thunder.

David felt a need for a cigarette, but because of the weather his pack got soaked. He bent to look under the table and found another pack, with only one cigarette left though. He lit it and offered it to Ellen. ‘Wanna share it with me? I'm afraid it's the last one.ʼ

She jumped off the armchair and moved to the couch next to him. She sat with her legs crossed and took a few puffs. As she was giving it back to him, he held her hand for a little too long instead of just taking the stick from her fingers, and their eyes met. It was a moment of electrifying sparkles flowing through her fingers to his and he just couldn't take his eyes away from that ocean blue stare. His heart was pumping blood so fast, he was close to having a seizure. Finally, he took the cigarette from her and drew on it once just to put it aside on the ashtray. Their faces were close, they were sitting opposite each other, between them only two glasses with their drinks. The tension was almost soul-sucking.

‘There are things you do to me, that you can't even imagine,ʼ he sighed.

‘Can I only say it's mutual?ʼ

That moment, with her biting her bloody lip like an innocent child, was the end of his patience and completely forgetting about the drinks between them, he leaned over her and pressed his lips against hers. She wasn't surprised, he could feel that she wanted it just as much as he did. The drinks spilled on the couch, red wine creating a stain that probably would never come off, but he couldn't care less about such irrevelant thing. He lay on top of her, trying not to crush her and moved his lips down to her neck and collarbones, his hand caressing her shoulder and her fingers in his hair. She let out a quiet moan, but then she suddenly stopped him. Afraid he did something wrong, he got off her, looking at her with worry and confusion.

‘This isn't right, I don't think we—ʼ She stood up, shaking her head, his shirt on her stained with red wine. ‘Oh great, and I've ruined another of your shirts!ʼ

He walked to her and grabbed her wrists gently to calm her. ‘Would you, please, tell me what are you afraid of?ʼ

Ellen's gaze settled on him and when her lower lip trembled, he fought the urge to kiss it. ‘Getting hurt,ʼ she said, so quietly he could barely hear it in the sound of the pouring rain outside.

‘I would never allow anyone, especially myself, to hurt you, darling.ʼ

There was a flash of hesitance in her eyes but it disappeared as she fluttered her eyes shut and closed the gap between their lips, deepening the kiss almost instantly, giving him all she had. Her lips were so warm, kissing her was like drinking hot chocolate in a winter evening, but with much more intensive emotions.

He grabbed on her thighs and lift her, sitting her on the desktop. She wrapped her legs around his waist, crossing them at ankles. They were kissing with a passion he had never felt before in his life. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled away again. This sudden action caused him to groan with disappointment.

Panting like an athlete with asthma, she gazed at him, their foreheads touching. ‘I don't want you to think I'm a groupie, okay? I don't want you to think that singing girl a song from the stage is a key to her heart or whatsoever, do you understand?ʼ He nodded his head with a mix of amusement and impatience. ‘Now, please, just take off that bloody shirt and kiss me before I say something more ridiculous.ʼ


	18. from station to station

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo—  
ever wondered how to combine god and sex in one short chapter?  
well let me show you how to not

Her skin was so soft and paper-thin, gooseflesh forming underneath his fingers. Her back was arching as a reaction to the kisses on her neck and collarbones. There was a little mole on her side and a barely visible scar he didn't want to ask about on her upper arm. Subtle May tan was reaching only her neckline and she had tiny light freckles between her breasts. All the imperfections of her body were making her even more perfect in his eyes and there was a plan growing inside his head to never, ever let her go. His touch was as gentle as possible, like he was scared of her being just a soap bubble vision made up by his high on drugs mind. But he hadn't taken anything and every amount of pain given by her nails scratching and digging into his back was assuring him it was very real. He longed for her lips only seconds after pulling back from them, lust fluttering within him. With their lips crushed together, bodies pressed tight, all he could hear was his own heartbeat and beautiful moans escaping her mouth. He felt everything he had been missing in life at once, when he held her fragile body in his arms and moved them on the soft couch. The unbottoned shirt she was still wearing slipped off from her arms on the way to the couch and now she was fully naked, like a beautiful alabastrine sculpture, lying on top of him. Her hair tickled his nose, so he ran his fingers through it and flicked it to one side, rolling them over in order to be on top now. Her body was so warm that every touch was burning out permanent prints deep underneath his skin.

He grabbed the arm of the sofa and lifted himself a little, their sweaty bodies unsticking from each other. As he was rocking back and forth to the steady rhythm dictated by her, his necklace was brushing against her breasts. He gazed down at her and she was biting her lower lip, like she usually did when she felt timid or insecure, but this time it was caused by the increasing pleasure and it made him feel it double.

Ever since his first time on drugs he had thought sex would never be as great sober, but what he truly lacked was the emotions. He'd done that with too many different people, yet none of those times could even compete with what he was feeling now.

Her fist trapped strands of his hair and pulled it back, the sound of a drawn-out moan escaping from her parted mouth. He kissed her swollen red lips, breathing in the air straight from her lungs. The wildfire inside their bones spread and there were few seconds that felt like everything in the room was just burning. The couch, the curtains, the bloody paintings and wooden furniture. Everything was on fire.

And then, the fog covering up his eyes thinned out and he settled his gaze on her face. He lowered his forehead to hers and a smile tugged at her lips, brightening her red cheeks. As much as he wanted to say something, anything, there were no words in the world which wouldn't spoil it all. He flopped on the couch, next to her, wrapping his arm around her. She nestled against him and put her head on his shoulder. Although his heartbeat was faster than ever, he felt calm at last, with her by his side.

‘I enjoyed the stars tonight very much,ʼ she blurted out, her voice quiet and still shaky from the emotions.

David let out a hoarse laugh. That event had completely slipped his memory because of what happened after that. He pressed his lips against her hair, not being able to hold back his smile. ‘You're the prettiest star of tonight.ʼ

She curled up a little more and covered her naked body with a burgundy satin blanket. Her fingers, carresing his chest, played with his cross pendant necklace.

‘Do you believe in God?ʼ

He grabbed on her hand, squeezing the pendant. ‘I—No, darling.ʼ

‘Why the cross then?ʼ She lifted her stare and knitted her brows in a slight confusion.

At first hesitation didn't allow him to speak, but after one short glance at her, he pushed away that feeling, replacing it, quite easily, with unconditional trust.

‘It belonged to my father.ʼ His eyes fixed upon the ceiling, as the memories flew into his head like annoying insects. ‘It's my only relic of him.ʼ

‘You don't keep in touch anymore?ʼ

‘He died, six years ago.ʼ

His answer confounded her a little, because she fell silence for a longer moment. ‘I'm so sorry.ʼ

He lifted his head to look at her and placed a kiss upon her forehead. ‘It's alright, love. That's people's greatest flaw. They leave us eventually, unless we leave first.ʼ

‘Don't you wanna believe he's up there, somewhere?ʼ

‘Oh, I do hope so! He was the only one who believed in me from the beginning. So I hope he can see it now.ʼ Although his words sounded rather happy, he didn't feel that way. His father had been, indeed, always supporting him, yet he never had a chance to witness his success. And now David couldn't get rid of the thought it was actually good, because he would be so disappointed in what a bloody fame turned his son into. ‘But the idea of some greater being watching over us from heaven, it just sounds so—sad? They're not doing their best, to be honest.ʼ

He was aware of her being a religious person, but he hoped this wouldn't impact on their relations. Most of the believers would try to impose their beliefs on others, and it was always driving him mad, because it sounded like a nonsense to him. But not her, she was different.

‘But if God doesn't exist, what's the point of us being here? Why do we even exist?ʼ she shrugged.

Amongst all the subjects they raised, what David enjoyed the most was their philosophical talks. He always appreciated having a companion, who wouldn't get upset for him questioning their beliefs and who would question his in return, because only then those conversations were stirring. Unfortunately, those kinds of people weren't easy to find. It made him even more exhilarated to know he had found a perfect soulmate in her.

‘Does everything have to happen for a reason?ʼ

‘Your very first words to me were if I believed in destiny,ʼ she recalled, which brought a grin upon his face. He loved the fact that he wasn't the only one obsessively analising their every encounter. ‘What do you believe in, then?ʼ she asked in a curious voice, placing her head on his chest. This weight felt so comforting, like it crushed all the negative tension inside of him.

He gave himself a moment to think of the most truthful answer. ‘Life. I believe life is the only thing we should worship and cherish. It's the only thing we know for sure we have.ʼ

It only he knew how to cherish life instead of rotting it like bacteria, more and more with every day.

He could feel her smiling against his skin, so he reached his hand to her hair and caressed it. They both stayed quiet, simply enjoying their presence. The rain had stopped at some point he didn't even notice and now it was deadly silent. She was listening to his heartbeat as if she didn't believe he was a human, while his fingers were tracing blue veins on her arm now. Two empty glasses laid on the floor in a puddle of mixed wine and whisky, which was soaking into the rug under the sofa.

A dim blue morning light began to curl the forest behind the windows. And he knew that any time now she would say the words he really didn't want to hear. It was unknown to him how he'd react on the fact she had to go, because he wanted them to stay on this very sofa and never have to be apart anymore.

‘Er—David?ʼ she said suddenly, and he hummed with his eyes shut. ‘I think I've just found cigarettes under the sofa.ʼ

‘Goodness, woman, you're truly a blessing.ʼ

She chuckled and pulled two cigarettes from an opened Gitanes packet, which he had, in fact, left there a few days ago. As soon as the nicotine smoke filled in his lungs, he felt that there was nothing else he needed in life. The sofa they were lying on was narrow, but she was nestled tight against him, so it didn't feel uncomfortable. They were smoking in silence, soaking up the moment, before it all disappeared in a thicket of reality.

‘What does this mean to us?ʼ Her voice trembled with emotions.

He breathed out a plume of smoke, half-shutting his eyelids. He had no idea what it meant. Lots of different, opposite thoughts were battling against each other inside his head, but he just let them do it, trying not to interfere, not to actually think of any conclusions for now. What happened between them tonight made things much more complicated, but then again, things had been complicated since that time he couldn't resist kissing her lips. And to think about it, things had been actually complicated since the day he met her at the railway station. Now he knew it wouldn't get easier.

In the corner of the living room, he saw a yellow kite leaned against the wall, and his heart ached, hit with a realisation that he was destroying his own family. But then again, was it ever a real family?

‘It means we won't have to run away alone anymore, darling.ʼ

With her, he experienced emotions he had never suspected himself of being capable to know. And it wasn't just about the sex. It was great, hell, it was, but it was the way she made him feel, like he was needed and important, that really struck him.

As she was falling asleep in his arms, he was falling more and more for her, and he felt like an ant stuck on a leaf drifting in tempetious ocean in her eyes.


	19. the return of the

People overuse the word ‘hypocriteʼ. It is often heard in such situations when someone have spoken up their mind about some matter, and then they were caught on doing the exact same thing, years after that. They say a wise man changes their mind, a fool never does, so does it really make one a hypocrite, if they changed their mind, their opinion compared to what they said a long time ago? And if so, does it really matter in the end? There's a living and breathing tendency to constantly judge others, it actually became a part of being a community. However, being judged by someone isn't even half as bad as being judged by oneself. Being called a hypocrite isn't half as bad and feeling a hypocrite. And this is exactly how Ellen felt after leaving David's house in the morning. After becoming what she loathed.

She was trying her best to just not think about it, but her perfidious mind kept planting those thoughts. It kept reminding her how upset she got when she found out about David's wife after their kiss, how she yelled at him for not wanting to be one of those women he could cheat on with. All of that, just to end up in his house, on his couch only a week later and act like none of those things ever happened. It didn't occur to her, until a big pendulum clock in his living room stroke nine and she had to go to work. Ever since, she couldn't stop being in two minds about that disastrous night. Because there was a part of her that had been yelling and screaming at her for being so easy to captivate, and on the other hand, she couldn't lie to herself – if time went back to that exact moment, just before their lips touched, she wouldn't change a thing.

Working in a constant tear and stress, she became a terrible employee. Mr Furlong pretended not to notice this change, but she knew he was doing most of the work she failed to complete. He probably thought her state had to do something with family issues, but it wasn't truth and it made her feel even worse, especially for not setting it straight. From her last phone call with Ryan, she knew her mother was home now, feeling good enough for not being in need of staying in hospital anymore. That was one concern less, yet she still couldn't feel free from her mind. Her body was in the shop, but her thoughts kept wandering off far away. Most of the time she was absent and having serious troubles with concentration. This had always been the way her life was. Long days of regrets and anxiety in exchange for few seconds of careless happiness. And even though she tried to fool herself, she _did _feel happiness around David. Yet, being aware that she couldn't keep it that way, she didn't allow herself to smile at the blear memory of that night, or any other night spent with him.

That day, as she was closing the shop, David was already waiting for her outside. She didn't know how to act and once again, she was being curt and a little abrupt to him. She kept telling herself that it wasn't his fault, that the only guilt here was in her, but maybe it was caused by her own guilt that she couldn't feel easy around him.

He held her hand, as he was walking her home, just those few doors away from the shop, and electric waves were swirling under her skin, clustered around the area he was touching. They didn't speak a word with each other, their footsteps being the only sound they were making, apart from the sizzling sound as they drew on their cigarettes.

He looked rather troubled as well, yet they both chose the silence, in fear of sharing their doubts. And it was painful, because sharing thoughts and doubts might've actually helped them. She never saw him this quiet and it was killing her, not knowing what he thought about everything that had ever happened betweeen them.

Those five minutes lasted at least for five hours to her, and as they finally stopped at the door to her building, she felt the air was as dense as pitch.

David ground out his cigarette and hid his hands into the pockets of his trousers. He was glancing at her from under his red beret, but she couldn't read anything from his eyes because of the pink sunglasses covering it. He was the first to break their silence. ‘Darling, I really think we should talk—ʼ

His words awoke an instant panic inside her chest and in the heat of the moment, she blurted: ‘I believe we need to let each other go.ʼ

His face fell in one second, but he didn't reply anything. Ellen took her chance, turned around and walked into the building. She closed the door, her heart trashing around like a fish in a net, and leaned against it.

‘You cannot expect me to let go of you once I got you,ʼ was all she heard, before he walked away from the door.

The next day, when she left the shop in the evening to close it, he wasn't there and in spite of wanting it before, her heart ached at his facile retreat.

★

If David had thought he deserved nothing but hell, he surely didn't expect to find himself in one so quickly. He never cared about the papers, unless they were intruding on his personal life. Of course, there had been many times he landed on front pages because of his scandalous behaviour on drugs, but it never really bothered him. What did bother him, was the headline of a newspaper Angela tossed on a table, when he was watching some television with a drink in his hand this evening.

At first, he wanted to ignore it. Ever since his wife came back home, they barely spoke to each other. He didn't ask where she had been and she didn't ask why their son wasn't even home. It hurt him, even though he didn't let it show. His marriage and his family was falling apart and slipping through his fingers. It was so painful that hadn't he been cocainised to numbness, he would've squirmed like a worm burning under a magnifying glass.

One short glance at the newspaper was all it took for his stomach to twist and his heart to stop.

_DAVID _ _BOWIE_ _ TAKING GROUPIES ON DATES_

Below that hideous headline, there was a printed black and white photograph of a couple of people. At first, he struggled with difficulties to recognise the skeleton in an expensive suit, hadn't he seen this face in a mirror today, he would've thought it was a dead man walking – so pale and unhealthily skinny. They were holding hands, him touching her cheek gently, with a smile he didn't even know he was still able to wear. Ellen was, thankfully, standing with her back to the camera. It did save her from being stalked by intrusive journalists. What it didn't save her from, was Angie's attention.

‘So you're cheating on me?ʼ she stuttered, her lips trembling.

‘Cheating on you?ʼ David scoffed, settling his gaze back on the TV. ‘Angie, what the bloody hell are you talking about?ʼ

‘This woman, from the newspapers.ʼ Angela pointed at the photo. ‘Who is she?ʼ

He battled against the urge to shout out the truth, but the truth was he didn't really know the truth. He had no idea who she was, the only matter he was sure of, was that she made him feel _so real_. So alive. Like the world around him actually existed and he existed in it.

Angie's glassy eyes were staring at him expectantly, and he didn't understand it at all. It wasn't the first time a newspaper showed a photograph of him and a woman who wasn't his wife. 

‘I was just sleeping with her, is that weird?ʼ he told her, against everything that was in his head, causing an enormous lump to grow in his throat. Her pretentious face made him slightly angry. ‘Did I miss something? Because last time I checked, it was perfectly normal in our relationship.ʼ

She approached him and took the glass out of his hand, just to push him and hit his already achy chest with her clenched fists with fury. ‘Then why didn't you tell me? Why keeping it a secret? You never kept anyone a secret, you were basically bragging with all the girls you had sex with!ʼ

That was enough for him, so he grabbed her wrists to stop her from doing this, and spat through gritted teeth, ‘This is insane, Angela, just listen to yourself, you fucking hypocrite.ʼ

‘Do you really think I'm such a horrible person? You think I wanted this whole open marriage shit?ʼ She was close to tears as she wrenched her wrists free and recoiled from him.

In her eyes, there was fear and sorrow, but he didn't pay attention to it. He had made up in his mind a version of her as a bad character in his life. For a long time he tried to get rid of this image, but right now it was so convenient to just ignore her hurt look, ignore the fact that she _did_ have feelings. It was much more convenient, because otherwise he wouldn't bear this. Despite becoming the main source of her pain, just as she became his, the truth was awfully devastating. He did love her, and she loved him. But this relationship was poisonous to both of them.

He got up from the sofa rapidly and walked towards the table, where a pack of his cigarettes was lying. He pulled one out and put it between his lips. His hands were shaking as he tried to light it with his silver zippo. ‘You never minded it though, fucking all those guys!ʼ

‘What was I supposed to do?!ʼ she burst out, her voice breaking in the middle of the sentence. ‘Just fucking tell me, what was I supposed to do?! I was only seventeen when I met you, and you, you were so aware of how you impacted on people. I fell in love with you immediately, a young stupid girl and a famous, wonderful rock star! And you had me wrapped around your finger and you knew it perfectly! I did everything for you!ʼ

He snorted in disbelief. At this point of their fight, he was genuinely mad at her. The meaning of her words didn't even occur to him, as he tried his best not to give them a second thought. ‘You? I believe I was the one to marry you, just because you needed a green card, so stop giving me this crap!ʼ

‘I've had a baby with you!ʼ she blurted with regrets soaking through her voice, and those words caused him to twitch. ‘I never wanted to have kids and you knew it all along, but I did it because _you_ wanted to make us a family! And I loved you unconditionally, so I wanted the same thing as you! And I've put up with your drugs and booze addiction, with you flirting around and fuck it, I was having sex with other people but it was the only way to keep myself sane. You've destroyed me, you've made me this and now you loathe me.ʼ She threw her arms in the air, tears falling down her face in streams. Then, a bitter smile twisted her lips, as she clearly gave up. ‘But it's okay, I'll get out of your life. I swear you will never see me again. I just hope, whoever this woman is, you won't fuck her up the way you fucked me up.ʼ

She was panting loudly with emotions, tears smearing the mascara all around her eyes and down her cheeks. The only sound was her breathing and his heartbeat. The silence around them was painfully deafening after her shouting. Every word she had just screamed in his face, was ringing inside his head like a excruciating fire alarm bell.

‘Just pack your things and get the hell out,ʼ he hissed, looking away. The ashes from his cigarette fell on the sofa, next to where that red wine stain was.

She let out a helpless cry, turned on her heal and stormed out of the room, leaving him alone with the pouring rain of thoughts inside his head. As soon as the front door closed with a loud slam, he tossed his glass against the wall and collapsed on the floor, the sound of smashing glass drowning out his scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yayyy so angie's gone
> 
> btw if you like my story, feel free to leave a kudo, it's a huge motivation xx


	20. thin white duke

It was a busy day. And every person after a busy day needs to unwind. Ellen didn't know many ways to relax, except for smoking and reading, but to keep her mind occupied, she couldn't do neither. The only option left was the pub. Maybe it wasn't the best idea, to waste half of her wage on drinks – taken the fact she barely eked out a living, with enough money only to pay the rent and feed herself – but it was honestly the only idea.

However, just before leaving her flat, she decided to make a phone call. She dialed the number and waited patiently, as the signals were repeating in the receiver.

‘Hello?ʼ

‘Hi, it's Ellen.ʼ

‘Oh, hello.ʼ Her brother's voice sounded quite tired. ‘Off work now?ʼ

‘Yeh,ʼ she nodded, sitting on bed and waving her feet. ‘I was just wondering about mum.ʼ

She did feel awful for the only input of hers in that matter being phone calls to her brother. However, as long as it wasn't necessary for her to come round, she preferred to just deal with being a prodigal daughter.

‘Well, she's better, I guess?ʼ He heard a click of a lighter and a hiss of smouldering cigarette, and it instantly made her feel like smoking one as well. ‘She's on her meds and Lucy's taking care of her during days.ʼ

Ellen found her pack of Embassy's cigarettes and clenched teeth on the filter of one, raising one eyebrow. ‘Lucy? What about father?ʼ

‘He's, er, working,ʼ Ryan told her and she could almost see him rolling his eyes at that. ‘He got himself hired in the factory in Salisbury. And now he's running the fuck away from his obligations, just as usually, you know.ʼ

‘Oh—Are you muddling through? Do you need any, um, help?ʼ She bit her lip. Family was the most important to her really and if only they needed her help, she'd be there in a heartbeat. But there was a feeble flame of hope that they didn't need it.

‘It's okay, El. It's a, well—ʼ He stopped to take a puff and held the smoke for a little longer, before breathing it out slowly. ‘It's my turn to deal with this shit.ʼ

She fell silent.

‘Besides, you know how mother loves Lucy, and it's mutual, and she she's only looking after her few hours a day, so it's not a bother really.ʼ

‘If you ever need anything, just give me a call, okay?ʼ

It was unbelievable, how she couldn't escape her own life and her own past. She ran away, but it wasn't far enough. There were still traces of compassion and empathy, and she tried so much to get rid of them. She shouldn't have called her brother in the first place, she should've just disappeared from their lives forever and get her own one. But that would make her a terrible person, and she surely wasn't one. Her heart was too big and it was easily to hit.

‘Sure thing, little one. Hey, how about us coming to London next weekend?ʼ Ryan asked, as if it was a city run by her and he needed a permission to visit. ‘I wanted to take Jack and show him around, he's never been to the city before. We were reading a story about the Tower of London ravens, and he got so excited to see them.ʼ

Ellen grinned at this sweet and pure thing her little nephew was. ‘I'd love to see you.ʼ

‘Just psych yourself up for a bunch of irrevelant information of birds,ʼ he warned her with a chuckle. ‘He's in a bird phase.ʼ

‘No more dinosaurs? Wow, that's called evolution if you ask me!ʼ

‘Yeah, you'll get to hear about that, too.ʼ

Ellen took the last drag of her cigarette and stubbed it out in an ashtray. She lifted herself from the bed, and a smile tugged at her lips. ‘I can't wait.ʼ

‘I'll let you know the details, but I think it'll be Saturday morning.ʼ

For some odd reason, she looked at the clock face, as if it would tell her today's date. It was only Tuesday, so she got plenty of time to clean up her flat a little, in case they wanted to see it. Although, the truth was, she'd rather they wouldn't. It was embarrassing to her, the poor conditions she was living in.

‘Brilliant. See you soon, then. And please, keep me update about mum, 'kay?ʼ she added, biting her lip, and twisting her fingers, a little stressed.

‘Of course. Take care, sister.ʼ

Each time after a phone call with Ryan, she felt a little calmer and more stressed at the same time. It was relieving to know everything was fine up there, yet it always left her feeling anxious. This time was no different, so in order to let go, she changed into something less casual and left the flat.

Downstairs, she bumped into her landlady, who was just coming inside the building.

‘Good evening, sweetie, how are you?ʼ Mrs Joyce gave her a warm smile.

‘I'm good, and you? Um, Mrs Joyce, I have this thing—ʼ She didn't know how to start, but it was about time to say it. ‘I'm having some money issues, would it be okay if I pay you half of the rent now, and the other half next week, please?ʼ

Mrs Joyce didn't looked very pleased, but who would be honestly. She did hide it with poise and class though, placing one hand on Ellen's shoulder and saying, ‘Darling, unless you're paying and you're happy with the flat, I don't really mind when. I just need to get my blood pressure meds, so if you can, please pay it until next week.ʼ

‘Of course, as soon as I receive my wage, I'll give you the money!ʼ she smiled happily and relieved.

‘Now, you fancy a cup of tea maybe?ʼ Mrs Joyce put her shopping bags on the ground in order to reach for her keys.

‘Oh, thank you, but I was just leaving.ʼ

‘Oh, well maybe another time then! You are always welcome here, you don't have to stay alone up in your room all the time really,ʼ she assured her, and her kindness melted Ellen's heart inside. ‘Although, not to be an intruder, I've seen this young man once or twice walking in and out, is there a Mr Dean now?ʼ She giggled like a gossiping teenager.

Her words made Ellen's turn slightly red. ‘Um, no, he's just a friend actually.ʼ

‘Very handsome, quite a charmer, to be said!ʼ Mrs Joyce jogged on her arm, with a playful smile.

She felt a bitter dryness in her mouth, as she swallowed nervously. ‘I should go now.ʼ

‘Oh, right. I'm only stopping you. Have a pleasurable evening, sweetie!ʼ

‘Thank you, Ma'am.ʼ

This short chat only left her with a bigger muddle in her head. She hadn't thought much of David, since their last confrontation, or at least she was fooling herself so. But now she couldn't focus her mind on anything else and it was so pitiful, because she surely didn't appear in his thoughts even for one second.

She ground her cigarette on the pavement and entered inside the warm pub. A strong smell of wooden barrels, hop and smoke welcomed her like an old friend. As she was making her way to the counter, she instantly noticed a familiar face behind it.

Chris clapped his hands with joy. ‘Ah, there goes the very favourite client of mine!ʼ

She took a little bow with a grin upon her face. ‘Hello there, my very favourite shrink!ʼ

‘Are we in a wine or a whiskey mood today? Hold on, let me guess!ʼ He pressed fingers to his temples, as if he was trying to force the brainwaves to connect with hers.

‘Wine, I think,ʼ she helped him, sitting on a barstool.

Chris turned around and reached for a dark bottle. ‘So, what'cha been doing?ʼ

She put a cigarette in her mouth, and shrugged. ‘Not much actually. Work, sleep, work, you know— Though I went to a show last weekend.ʼ

She had no idea, why she brought that up, but she didn't bite her tongue on time, and it drew his attention instantly. ‘Oh, what show?ʼ he asked curiously, as he was pouring wine into a glass.

She wanted to punch her face, really hard. ‘Um, David Bowie.ʼ Her voice broke a little with embarrassment, and it came out with a terrible squeal.

‘Weren't they playing anything else?ʼ he laughed and sat down behind the counter to drink one with her.

His words slightly threw her off-balance. ‘I'm guessing you're not much of a fan.ʼ

‘Well, he's a rather—quirky persona. Besides, he's gay, so.ʼ She choked on her drink, barely holding the liquid inside her mouth.

‘I'm sorry—ʼ she murmured, coughing and patting on her chest. ‘He is though? I thought he had a wife.ʼ

Chris spinned around in the chair, his hands drumming on his laps. ‘Well, I don't really know, to be honest. I'm more of a pure rock admirer really. Have you ever heard of T Rex? Or Led Zeppelin? I mean, I would turn gay for Robert Plant, he's a god!ʼ

She chuckled, still a little tensed though. The sour, burning taste of wine was still somewhere between her sinus and her throat. ‘Sorry, I don't know much of modern music,ʼ she admitted to cut down the subject.

‘You surely don't, since you're a Bowie fan,ʼ he teased her with a smirk.

Ellen rolled her eyes, shifting in her seat. ‘Just so you know, I actually work in a music shop!ʼ

‘I don't believe you. You don't even know Led Zeppelin.ʼ

‘I do know them, okay!ʼ

‘Yeah, name one song.ʼ

‘But—ʼ

‘Just one!ʼ

‘_Rock 'n roll—_ish something?ʼ she gave a clumsy try.

‘Oh my God! You better shut your mouth now, please.ʼ

Hanging out with Chris, in the small pub on the corner, was something she actually enjoyed. He was so much different to David, so much simpler, more pure. In his eyes, there were always flickers of joy and optimism, and it was truly contagious. He made everything easier and hid away every worry with his enthusiastic grin. It was like a fresh brief of air after a long time spent in a stuffy room.

Yet, he wasn't David, and it was him who she really needed and missed. He was complicated. But her life had always been so full of difficulties of all type, that she actually needed complicated. With every glass of wine, there was an idea forming in her mind, and which every glass it seemed more and more sensible.

By the time they left the pub, with Chris locking the door behind them, she already knew what she would do next.

‘Let me walk you home, eh?ʼ he proposed, placing his arm around her shoulders.

She gathered thoughts to speak up, feeling just slightly dizzy from the alcohol in her head. ‘I, um—I'm not going home tonight. I'll just get a taxi, but thanks. It's actually so kind of you.ʼ

‘Ah, I should've figured,ʼ he smacked his lips and took his arm away. ‘You're seeing someone, aren't ya? I'm sorry, I didn't even ask, before starting to make moves on you.ʼ

Two of the things he said stroke her like a lightning. ‘You were making moves on me?ʼ she cracked a laugh. ‘Sorry, that came out rude, that wasn't actually my intention.ʼ

‘I can't believe you didn't even appreciate my fantastic flirt moves!ʼ he exclaimed with amusement and then shrugged. ‘I like you. Though I only get to know the sober you for, like, first fifteen minutes of each time you come here.ʼ

They both chuckled, and she stopped, noticing a black cab by the road. ‘I enjoy your company too, Chris,ʼ was all she said in that matter, hoping it didn't sound as awkward as she was feeling at the moment. He didn't look upset or downbeat, his eyes were still kind and warm. ‘See you next time?ʼ

‘Happily,ʼ he smiled and hugged her goodbye, before she got in the taxi.

★

Hot flame. Hot smoke. Hot cheeks.

Cold air. Cold glass. Cold fingers.

‘Hey, David! Come over here, these girls promised us some fun evening!ʼ

White skin. White powder. White shirt.

‘That's not very kind of you, not sharing, you know that? Hey, boys, wait a minute, one for the road!ʼ

Numb limbs. Numb gaze. Numb mind.

Shutters. Pain. Blood. Stained shirt.

Shout. Laugh. Startle.

‘What the fuck are you doing? Leave it, pal, stop destroying the glasses, or we won't be welcome here anymore.ʼ

‘Don't look at me, I honestly don't like this rathole anyway.ʼ

‘To you, every place without absinthe is a rathole, Keith.ʼ

‘Well, what else would you call it? A mousepit maybe?ʼ

He shook his head, and the voices came back into their owners' mouths.

It was supposed to hurt, falling from far above the Earth, where he had been just a second ago. It didn't. Nothing hurt, not anymore.

His feet were studding forward, but he had a feeling he was watching this from afar. He didn't fall back on Earth, he was still up there. He was still very, very high. He was so fucking high, and he started to feel fear from heights.

It wasn't salvific anymore, it was deepest depths of hell he was promised from the beginning. Every part of his body, starting from the tips of his fingers and toes, was burning and rotting. The oxygen in his lungs exploded and every breath of his was like noxious fumes.

The pumping inside his rib cage was so rapid, like hundreds of horses galloping through boundless prairie. If a person only has a specific number of heartbeats for a lifetime, his heart must've used at least a third of them tonight.

One of the most disappointing things about cocaine was the fact he had discovered not so long ago, that the euphoric state is reachable only under specific circumstances. Most of people fitted in those circumstances, of feeling dull, sad, overwhelmed or just bored. It was supposed to make him feel good, to make him forget about everything and enjoy the nice evening out. It was supposed to make him social, smooth-tongued and easygoing, and instead, he was a drooling ghost with a cigarette in his mouth and a running nose. Cocaine brightened up his brain, but the light got entirely lost in the immense darkness of his soul.

Imagining what he would be without cheering himself up with drugs, was just truly dreadful.

‘You okay there?ʼ

‘Of course I'm okay,ʼ David snorted, putting on his nonchalant, aloof mask, and stubbed out his cigarette in a half-empty glass. ‘I always am.ʼ

He passed Mick in the doorstep, making enormous effort to fake a balanced walk.

Outside the pub, there was the rest of Mick's band, with Keith ahead, and Ronno – his very own guitarist, a Spider from Mars – which was quite surprising, since he and Keith hated each other's guts. David couldn't recall the reason of that mutual animosity, it had probably started because of a woman. Men are not so easy to drive a wedge between, but if it happens, the wedge always turns out to be a woman.

‘Where to, ladies?ʼ Keith put both of his big sweaty hands on two girls' bums, and they giggled as if they were actually flattered. David was actually impressed with how many girls someone as ugly as him could pick up, just because he was the second option, right after Jagger.

‘What's your name, darling?ʼ David muttered blandly to a redhead by his side, which was apparently meant for him tonight. He couldn't complain, she was squarely the most attractive of them.

She simpered, moving a little closer towards him, however, he didn't want to touch her until they were both in a taxi or in a room. ‘Angie. But they call me Angel, and so can you.ʼ

His heart sunk and he felt a sudden change of mood, as if raging fire burst inside his head.

‘I can assure you I will not, really,ʼ he spat, putting a cigarette between his dry lips, as he walked towards Ronno. ‘You can have this one, if you please.ʼ

The redhead girl glared at him really upset, blushes crawling upon her face, but he remained impassive and didn't feel any sorry for her. It was hideous of him. She wasn't even a human being in his eyes. All of the people around him, they were just walking and breathing flesh attached to their skeletons. He was a walking piece of flesh as well, since there was nothing left of him inside.

With another flesh underneath him, panting and moaning through red swollen lips to the rhythm of his moves, he felt nothing but disgust and pure frustration. Her eyes were blurred with drugs and lust, and his were rather bored. Once he finished, he got up and put on his shirt. Fixing up a stripped tie, he didn't favour her a single glance. Soon he left the girl lying on a king size bed, sweat drops on her body sparkling in a chandelier light, and walked out of the room without a single word.

His lips were shaking for unknown reason, barely holding a cigarette, so his teeth gritted on the yellow filter as he was lighting it. There was a taxi, already waiting for him in front of the hotel entrance.

Sitting in the backseat, he tilted his head back and shut his eyelids. Quiet hums were escaping his mouth in order to calm the furious heartbeat and his fingers were playing with the silver zippo lighter. He must've fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes, the taxi was pulling over by his house. Cigarette cinder had fallen on his leg sleeve and burnt a little hole in its delicate material. He brushed the ashes off and got out of the car, leaving money on the driver's armrest.

The keys didn't want to cooperate with his cold and numb fingers, so it took him a while, until he managed to go inside. The warmth hit his face like flames, and he suddenly felt his knees were too weak to lift up his whole body. He made a few shaky steps and reached the coffee table. Rattling sound of the keys dropping on the glass surface hurt his ears. He took off his shoes and as soon as his system adjusted to the temperature, he turned around and attempted to go upstairs.

There was so much going on inside his head, and he just wanted to rest at last. This reaction of his body was absolutely incomprehensible. It couldn't even handle a little party just as usual. It was failing him, really, his own humanity was such a disappointment.

He always had a repulsive need to be more than a human being, but right now, despite feeling the weakness, he didn't believe he was a human anymore. And in order to become something more, you have to reach that lower point first, don't you?

As his feet were moving up to overcome another steps, the exasperating thoughts were flying closer just to bite him and melt, before he could react. He tightened his grip on a carved wooden handrail and pursed his lips, feeling an actual physical pain in his chest.

It was burning, melting his bones.

And the thoughts were jeering at him. Everything was too fast and too slow at the same time.

He gasped for breath, overwhelmed by the nasty feelings striking his brain convulsions.

Pause. Blur. Fade.

He finally fell. It didn't hurt, yet every stair he hit left a future bruise on the surface of his frail body. Light went off faster than the sound, only so that moments before passing out, he could hear that little frightened voice.

‘Daddy—?ʼ


	21. throwing darts

‘Where do you wanna go, Miss?ʼ

As soon as the question was asked, she felt doubts hitting her straight in the face. Of course she perfectly knew, where she wanted to go, but should she actually do it? At first she thought it all made sense. Until the other day, he had been the only one of them both, who knew where to usually find her. He knew where she worked, he knew where she lived. Hell, he even knew where she went for a drink. Therefore, he was the one to initiate their meetings. And now she decided to take this bold step forward and change it. Somehow, despite being overwhelmed with excitement and other emotions back then, she did remember the name carved in front of the beautiful Victorian house.

‘Haddon Hall, Beckenham, please.ʼ

It could be caused by the presence of alcohol in her system, throwing the thoughts of any consequences aside. She didn't even care if his wife was home. To hell with her, she could always introduce herself as a journalist. That wouldn't explain much the late time, but it didn't matter. She needed to see him right now, she needed _him. _

There was a storm going for quite a long time, when the taxi pulled over in a familiar driveway. She got out and took a deep breath, at that moment still unaware of how much _he_ actually needed her.

She knocked three times first, but lack of any answer made her press the door bell. Maybe nobody was home, maybe he was out with some friends, having a party, or he was spending the night at the recording studio, polishing the album. Or simply sleeping, considering the time. Her hair was already wet, so were her clothes, and she felt the irony, because the last time here she had looked pretty much the same. The car that had brought her here drove away, and she started panicking, because if the house was really empty, she had no place to go and no way to call another taxi. She would have to wait outside his house, in this pouring rain, until someone came back and saw this pathetic view. She bit her lip and knocked one more time, this time louder. Her knuckles hurt a little, but it turned out to be effective, for she finally heard steps behind the door.

‘Who is it?ʼ a tiny little voice asked.

She got immediately nervous and regretted coming here in the first place.

‘I apologise for the late hour, but is David home?ʼ

‘Daddy's asleep, he wouldn't wake up.ʼ Her heart skipped a beat, as she realised who was standing behind that door. Then, it stopped for a little longer, when the meaning of the child's words hit her. ‘Are you a doctor?ʼ

‘Did you call for a doctor?ʼ she asked concerned, and the child hummed in confirmation. Her voice and her hands were shaking, but she tried to sound calm. ‘Open the door, please, let me see your dad.ʼ

The lock clicked open two times and she could feel the wooden door moving to reveal a little boy in the hall. He had long blonde hair and the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Those were, undoubtedly, his father's eyes. He was squeezing a teddy bear tightly up to his chest as if he was scared and the toy was the only comfort he received. Ellen knelt to maintain an eye contact.

‘Hello.ʼ She gave him a warm smile. ‘I'm Ellen. What's your name, little one?ʼ

‘Zowie,ʼ he muttered shily, dropping his gaze.

‘Nice to meet you, Zowie. Can you show me where your dad is?ʼ

Zowie nodded and stepped aside to let her in. She hadn't get the chance to see the main hall of the mansion, because last time David led them in through the garage. The stairway was majestic and truly beautiful. The single stair flight fanning out into two halfway up, with wooden carved banisters, with two slim figures at the beginning of each. Although aware of it being a completely irrational thought at this moment, she did feel embarrassed that she let him ever see her poor little flat.

At the bottom of the stairs, there he was. Lying unconscious, covered with a blue starry blanket. Her heart banged against her ribcage once, and then sunk. ‘Oh God—ʼ

She approached him and shook his arms, but his body was limp and heavy. His head tilted back, as she was holding him up a little. ‘David? Please, wake up. Please.ʼ

Because of the presence of his son, she tried not to sound so desperate, but it didn't go very well, for it was dreadfully a horrible view. Although Zowie did not understand what was going on, she could tell he was very upset. His lower lip trembled as he sat down on the first stair and fixed the blanket on his father's chest. It took her a while to guess what actually happened to David and once she did, calling an ambulance seemed the only responsible idea. She found a phone, which was near the stairs, and picked up the receiver, but there was no signal. She dialled the emergency number anyway, however it simply didn't work. The loud thunder outside the window, gave her a hint of why, and she slammed the phone down. She came back to David and rolled him into recovery position. Thanking God for this one time when she decided to take a first aid course, she checked on his pulse by pressing fingers to his wrist. It was faint, but to her relief, he still had one. She collapsed on the floor next to him, shutting her eyes and trying to figure out what to do now.

She glanced at the boy. ‘Zowie, how about you go get some water, so we try to bring dad round, eh?ʼ

Zowie rubbed his eyes with his little fists, fighting the sleepiness. Regardless of that, he stood up, his teddy bear left by the stairs, and disappeared around the corner, supposedly heading to the kitchen.

No wonder he felt tired, it was almost four in the morning, and she had no idea, what time David had passed out. She only hoped it wasn't that long ago. Suddenly he flinched and curled up in a rapid move, just to throw up on the floor the next moment. Once again, she thanked God for knowing basic first aid steps, because if he had been still laying on his back, he would've simply choked.

She found tissues in her pocket and wiped his mouth, moving his head back, so it didn't lie in a vomit puddle. It was so stressful, she started thinking about how to get him to a hospital. The line was dead, so there was no possible way to call for help, but maybe if she could just find the keys to his car and drive him there somehow—

‘Duncan.ʼ

The hoarse, faltered voice was barely audible, yet she jumped at it, a little startled. She knelt beside him and pressed her hand to his cheek and forehead. It was cold and sweaty.

‘David, can you hear me? Are you w-with me? It's Ellen,ʼ she stuttered, the strong feeling of worry tying up a knot on her throat.

‘His name's Duncan—ʼ was all he said.

At first, it sounded like he was just raving. His eyelids were still shut, but his lip was shaking a little. He looked so pale and weak, with very large dark shadows encircling his eyes. Holding him in her arms, she didn't feel his body's weight. It was completely overstrode by the weight of the heavy, hopeless and uncertain situation.

He started moving his limbs, clenching fists and punching his chest as he coughed a few times. He managed to sit up, leaning against the first baluster of the stairs. His breath was rough and whizzing. She stayed by his side, holding his hand, and he tried to squeeze it, but it came out barely as a slight grip.

At this moment, Zowie came back with a glass full of water held in both of his hands, like it was the most precious liquid in the world. She took it from him, whispering ‘thank youʼ, and he gave her a proud look, feeling important and indispensable. He stood aside from the stairs this time, as if he was afraid to come closer. His firm stare was focused on his father, and he looked very serious.

‘I—Here's water. Drink some, please.ʼ She knelt beside him, and pressed the glass against blue lips. Her eyes watered with tears as she was seeing him this wrecked. He took one sip, but some of the water spilled down his chin onto his shirt and his elegant waistcoat. Only then, she noticed he was wearing a suit; one of his casual ones, but it still made him look like he had been out.

‘How are you feeling? Can you open up your eyes?ʼ She kept talking to him, so he wouldn't drift off again. Watching his face carefully, she was looking for anything to help her assess his state.

He squirmed, but then finally settled his gaze on her. His bloodshot eyes were hazed, but bluer than ever. Both pupils almost the same size, which frightened her. He didn't recognise her right away, it took him few moments to mutter her name. ‘Ellen—?ʼ She beamed through tears and nodded. His face looked tensed and unpleased to see her, with his knitted brows and wrinkled nose. ‘What are you doing here?ʼ

‘I'm—ʼ she spluttered, but suddenly lost her tongue.

What was she doing here? Right now, she was giving him help he actually needed. Although, the reason she came here in the first place, remained blank, like an unfilled field in paper form. She shouldn't have come here, even though it turned out to be fortunate, because God knew what would've happened to him, if it wasn't for her.

And then she remembered the words he had told her, when she slammed the door in his face. And she understood it, because that was exactly how she felt right now.

‘You cannot expect me to let go of you, once I got you,ʼ she whispered, with tears running down her cheeks.

He gave her an astounded look, his eyes open wide, and then let out a faint laugh. Next thing he said, it sounded like him again. ‘Could you please leave me for a moment? I need to clean myself up, I don't want you to see me like this, darling. There's my own vomit on my clothes.ʼ

‘Do you think I care about this?ʼ she gasped out, leaning back a little. ‘You're weak, won't even make it upstairs. Let me help you.ʼ

David moved his eyes, without moving his head a bit, and stopped them at Zowie. Then he quickly shifted his stare back to her, and slurred, ‘You can help by taking my son away, he's fucking scared of his own father.ʼ His eyes were so sad and hurt, but he had to know there was no one to blame but him. ‘Just give me five minutes, would you, please?ʼ

Sighing, she got up and turned around to the boy, still standing by the wall and observing them from afar. ‘Wanna show me your room, eh? We'll give your dad some time to fully wake.ʼ

Zowie wasn't convinced, he still couldn't tear his eyes from David, who was sitting in the exact same spot, shivering a little, the starry blanket slipped down on his legs now. Ellen gave him an encouraging smile and reached her hand to him. Before reacting on that gesture, he ran to the stairs quickly and snatched his teddy bear. David was following him with his vapid stare, until Zowie took her hand and they both passed him on their way upstairs.

She felt anxious and worried so much, it was really hard to focus on anything else. When they walked to Zowie's room, she looked around a little to get her mind off of him for just a second. It was quite big, with lots of toys, aircraft models hanging from the ceiling. There were little shining stars stuck to it right above his bed. She smiled, knowing David's fascination with space. On a bedside table, there was a framed photograph of him and his father together outside, throwing one of the models in the air. David looked so happy, she could hardly believe it was actually him. Now she knew what caused his current state. She didn't know though, what caused the apparently harsh addiction. Could it be fame, overwhelming him?

Zowie sat on his bed and yawned.

‘Tired, aren't you?ʼ she guessed, sitting next to him. ‘How about you get some sleep, huh? I'll take care of your dad now. It was very kind and brave of you, you know.ʼ

‘I just want daddy to be happy,ʼ he simply said, and it broke a piece of her heart, and angered her a little. He got under the sheets and placed the soft toy on the other side of the bed. ‘He's sad now and he can't walk sometimes. Can't sad people walk?ʼ

Ellen knitted her brows and bit her lip to stop the tears. ‘Daddy's just tired. He'll be okay now.ʼ She caressed his hair, and looked back at the bedside table, where an old book lay. ‘Do you want me to read you to sleep?ʼ

‘Can you change voices?ʼ he asked dubiously.

‘I can try.ʼ She took the book and smiled at the cover. It looked very familiar, and that warmed her heart a little, she knew it from her own childhood library. There was also nothing really surprising in the fact that David's son liked that peculiar one. She cleared her throat, before starting off. ‘_On clear, starry night the Moon Man can be seen curled up in his shimmering seat in space. _

_‘Every night from his drifting sphere, the Moon Man was filled with envy as he watched the earth people dance._

_“If only I could join the fun,” he thought. “Life up here is such a bore.”_—ʼ


	22. in lovers' eyes

It didn't actually took long until his weary eyes shut and she heard a little snore coming from his parted mouth. She stopped reading, and after he didn't react, she placed the book back on the bedside table, and stood up. As she turned around to the door, she almost screamed when she noticed David in the doorstep.

‘You're a fantastic storyteller, I must admit,ʼ he smiled at her, his eyes still very dimmed and his skin paler than usual.

He rubbed his face with both of his hands, leaning against the door frame, and she approached him to give him a careful look.

When she spoke, her voice came out a bit colder than she wished for. ‘How are you feeling?ʼ

‘Quite good, I believe.ʼ He was obviously lying or still very high, and it made her genuinely incandescent with anger again.

She didn't want to make scenes though. It wasn't her business at all. Having that in mind, she just passed him and walked out of the room. He followed her downstairs, lighting a cigarette on his way, and they didn't stop until they found themselves in the hall.

His indifference was frustrating. She barely fought off the urge to yell at him, tell him what an egoistic bastard he was, call him names and just punch him. She barely held her tears as well, wondering if he would even remember she was here.

‘Ellen, I am sorry you had to see that.ʼ He didn't have the courage to look at her, which gave her the idea that he was actually ashamed. And he should be. But her witnessing it was the slightest problem he had.

‘How can you be so selfish?ʼ she spat out, clenching fists in helplessness. ‘Your own son was home!ʼ

He drew on his cigarette and slowly breathed out the smoke. Then, when she thought he would finally say something, he just repeated it.

‘Just fucking answer me, would you?ʼ She whipped the cigarette from his fingers and threw it away.

‘What do you want me to say, Ellen?ʼ His hazy, yet intensive stare was drilling a hole throughout her. He put his hands into his pockets. ‘What do you _want_ to hear?ʼ

‘The truth,ʼ she whispered, trying to look unimpressed and still remain adamant.

Suddenly, he leaned his hands against the wall she was standing by, caging her between his arms in just one second. His forehead lowered to hers, and she could smell the shampoo on his still wet hair, which was tickling on her nose now. Her heart started beating faster, but her breath got shallow. It wasn't so exciting and appealing, there was something in his eyes that made her feel anxious and a little scared. She wanted to escape, but his dark, intense gaze paralysed her.

‘I. Don't. Know.ʼ His lips were still blue and shaky. ‘I don't fucking know.ʼ

She fluttered her eyes shut and gulped. ‘Then it's a hell of a problem to sort out, don't you think?ʼ

He slammed the wall with rage and bounced himself away from it. For a moment, she could only observe his back and his fingers pulling strands of the red hair. When he turned around to her, his eyes were full of worry and regret. Her whole body was shivering with fear, and it didn't escape his notice.

‘I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—ʼ He walked towards her, but she only flinched, and it stopped him immediately. ‘I am sorry. I don't know what's happening—ʼ

‘I think we both know just perfectly what is happening. The thing is, you don't see it a problem, do you?ʼ She was impressed by her own boldness, especially given the fact of how scared she was. But it wasn't about her, she wasn't important now. It was him who needed to understand some things, and she was the only person to get in his way apparently, and stop him.

‘Love, please, don't be scared, I can't stand you being scared and knowing it's my fault,ʼ he muttered with panic rising in his eyes. He tried to touch her a few times but always contained himself. ‘I won't hurt you, I will never, I've promised you that, haven't I?ʼ

‘Then stop it.ʼ She didn't look at him, but he _did, _he was looking at her with those very intense and very concerned eyes. She felt so small, as if she had shrunk down in the corner of the hall, between a beautiful Victorian chiffonier and a tall gold-framed mirror. ‘It's not you, stop it—ʼ

For a really short moment, it crossed her mind that he might eased up a little. It was so wrong of her though, because once again he burst out at her. ‘And how could you possibly know it's not bloody me?! I believe you're too forward to even think you know a slightest piece of me!ʼ

Ellen swallowed the tears again. She kept telling herself that it really wasn't him. It was the drugs talking. It was the anger and the frustration, outflowing and spilling out of his devastated heart. And to put it that way, it hurt her even more. She just wanted to stop him, hug him and calm him down, just as he had always been doing with her, but she was afraid he would take his rage on her in other way than simply shouting. She had to keep telling herself that he wouldn't hurt her. He said so, he promised. However, her body was shaking with fear, and her skin was itchy like it was ready for a punch.

_He's not like father, _she kept thinking to herself like a lunatic, trying to keep it together and not crack.

With a sweeping flick of his hand, so close to her, he tossed a porcelain vase off the chiffonier, and as it broke on the floor, so did he. She didn't move for a moment, observing his actions. And he was sobbing quietly, curled up on the cold wooden floor, and it was such a pitiful picture, yet she felt compassion towards him. Because, in spite of what he claimed, she did know him a little and she knew he wasn't angry at all, just really fucking _hurt_.

Stepping through her own fear like a morning fog, she approached him and sat down on her heels, right beside him. His chest was waving along with his heavy breaths, and he hid his face in his hands, which made it more difficult to judge his current state. And his state, it swayed like a swing, ready to knock her down once she came too close in the wrong moment. She took a risk and placed her hand on his shoulder, gently and really, _really_ carefully.

He stiffened and straightened up a little, tilting his head back, until it met a cupboard behind him. ‘Please, go.ʼ

‘No,ʼ she said softly but firmly, and sat down, leaning her back against the piece of furniture, just like he had done.

She fished a pack of Embassy out of her pocket, and offered him one. He reached for it with hesitance, his fingers trembling and struggling to pull it out. Putting it between his lips, he gave his zippo lighter to her first. Soon, plumes of hoar smoke filled the space between three walls surrounding them.

‘My son's name, it's Duncan,ʼ he muttered blankly, breathing out, and it made sense, his previous half-conscious burbling. ‘Zowie is some sick joke Angie came up with.ʼ

Ellen nodded to acknowledge his words, and then they both fell silent.

It almost made her laugh aloud, when she remembered calling him complicated. She could've guessed what level of complicated he was. However, the awareness of it caused a gulp rising in her throat. It was so hard, and such an irony, to run away from a tough situation straight into the arms of an even tougher one.

So there they were. Sitting in the Haddon Hall's hall, in a deadly silence, smoking cigarette after cigarette, for long hours. The only loud sound was their heartbeats and a storm of thoughts inside their heads. Although, they couldn't possibly hear each other's, unfortunately.

★

The moment of falling asleep had turned out to be absolutely intangible to her. When she opened up her eyes, first thing she saw was a white stucco ceiling carved into floral ornaments, suffused with sunlight and motes of dust sparkling up in the air. It wasn't her own room, that was for sure, and at first it stumped her, only so the next moment she could recall what had happened last night. A sudden heavy load of burden rained up her chest and left her breathless, but actually not fighting for a breath at all.

She sprung out of the bed, where someone must've put her in, only to check if the heaviness upon her chest was a physical weight. It wasn't, yet she could still feel it, even standing up.

Outside the large window, there was a broad, lush garden, spreading out into a forest. Some of the trees were tall and looked quite old, creating a truly uncanny aura, like straight from a fairytale. She tore her eyes from it, and looked around the room, to have a clearer picture of her situation. The awareness of wearing only her underwear and a T-shirt, abashed her, so she scooped her jeans, which were hung on a chair, and put them on. After that, she decided to leave the room and go check on downstairs.

The house seemed to be empty, or everyone was still asleep. As she finally managed to find her way to the living room, it turned out she was only half right.

‘Hello there,ʼ she spoke to a little creature, sitting on a couch – the very couch she and David had sex on, thinking of which made her cheeks flushed – and watching carefully his almost identical, yet older version.

Zowie, or as David had corrected her, Duncan, glared at her with frightened eyes, and put his finger to his mouth. ‘Shh, daddy's sleeping!ʼ

It felt like a whip stroke right in her heart. David was lying in the armchair, his back at her, so she moved to face him. With eyes closed and hair falling over his brow, his head was flopped forward, to the side. Between his slender fingers, there was a cigarette which had burnt itself. He was fully dressed and, in fact, asleep. And it seemed to be a real sleep, not unconsciousness, like last night. Ellen must admit he looked so calm, innocent and at peace, it was really endearing.

To avoid waking him, she tilted her head at his son, and whispered, ‘Come on, let's make dad some breakfast.ʼ

He didn't want to leave David's side, dogged expression upon his face, but eventually he gave up and jumped off the couch. His care and determination filled her heart with warmth and some kind of a sadness. It was a peculiarly moving sight.

Little Duncan led her to the kitchen and showed her around. ‘This is where we keep vegetables. Dad likes peppers.ʼ She nodded, with a big smile, because he looked very serious about his task to explain her things. ‘And there's our fridge, and we always have a lot of milk.ʼ

Ellen had never had a magic touch with cooking, but making breakfast shouldn't defeat her. Besides, the excitement of Duncan, as they started preparing food, was telling her that he must've been starving. She decided to try her best and make something that would taste and look at least decent.

The kitchen was very spacious and well equipped, but the cupboards and the fridge were almost empty. Having found a few products, she made eggs and toasted bread, adding some chopped vegetables. Duncan was helping by handing her all the pans, plates and cutlery she needed. She brew some coffee, and prepared freshly-squeezed orange juice. Once everything was ready, they both set the table. It was a bit strange to her, spending time with David's son, especially given the circumstances, and the fact she had actually had no idea of his existence until yesterday. However, that was a really petty concern compared to all the rest. And if she could do anything to help, she'd do it in without batting an eye.

Placing the coffee pot on the table, she noticed David coming into the dining room. Never had she seen him asleep nor just awoken, and it was such an adorable picture she wanted to save up in her memory.

‘Coffee?ʼ she asked with a kind smile, as he sat down by the table.

He shifted his blank gaze to her and gave her a small nod. Duncan was sitting next to him, with food on his plate, stabbing yolks with a fork.

‘Thank you,ʼ he murmured under his breath, dropping his stare, when she put a steaming cup in front of him.

‘I've made some eggs and toast, treat yourself.ʼ

‘I'm not really hungry.ʼ

Ellen furrowed her eyebrows, feeling worry. ‘You should eat something. Last night was awful to you.ʼ

Rolling his eyes at her, he picked a red pepper from the cutting board and put it in his mouth. She was a bit amazed with how he could eat such spicy food without wincing, but she guessed he was just that kind of a person.

Duncan was the first to deal with his food, and soon he jumped from his seat and tugged on his father's sleeve. ‘Can I go play outside?ʼ

‘Of course, my dear.ʼ David tapped on his shoulder. ‘Just don't go into the woods, or you'll get lost again, alright?ʼ

The boy shook his head for a ‘yesʼ and stormed out of the dining room with excitement, leaving the two of them alone. She shifted in her seat uneasily, not sure how to start a proper conversation now. She knew they really should talk about what had happened last night, but she wasn't the right person to raise this subject.

‘Ellen, I—ʼ He sighed, a cigarette between his dry lips. ‘I just wanted to thank you.ʼ

‘It's nothing, really,ʼ she cut it, blushing a little.

‘And apologise. I hate that you had to see it, I am truly ashamed. And—if anything, I should be making you breakfast, and—ʼ

She put her hand on the top of his, to stop him, as he was getting more and more tangled up in his own words. He shut his mouth and flicked hair falling into his eyes.

‘Are you okay?ʼ That was a really stupid question, and she realised it the moment it was already leaving her mouth.

David laughed shortly too, but it was quite a bitter laughter. ‘I don't know. I feel better, I believe.ʼ

‘Good.ʼ

It was awkward; the silence, the uncomfortable feeling of uncertainty. In their short, yet intense and unspecified relationship, never had they felt uneasy with just sharing silence. This time, it was the opposite. But this silence wasn't the calm and enjoying each other's presence sort of silence. It was rather caused by lack of words to express their thoughts and feelings.

David lit another cigarette and fixed his stare to the window in front of him. ‘Did I, er—hurt you? In any way?ʼ

‘How much of last night do you remember?ʼ she asked carefully and watched his pale, exhausted face.

His eyelid twitched, and when he spoke, his teeth were clenched, and his voice very quiet. ‘Not much, I'm afraid.ʼ

He wouldn't look at her, for some reason, which made her even more worried. He was beating himself up for that situation, and the truth was, although it was breaking her heart, she couldn't really tell him it wasn't his fault. What she could do, was assure him things would get better eventually.

‘David, listen.ʼ She moved her chair closer to him and touched his palm with her fingers. ‘I will help you. I am here and I have no intentions to leave your side.ʼ

His eyes finally met hers, and they were cold, and so woefully reconciled.

In return, he gave her a sad smile. ‘Oh, my dear Ellen. How do you stitch together a soul that's been bitten, torn and spat out?ʼ


	23. making sure white stains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's messy and shitty, sorry, bye

As much as Ellen wanted to stay with him, talk this through and make sure he was alright at least for now, the morning had turned into noon really quickly. Obviously, she was so late for work already, and with David promising he would pick her up in the evening, she jumped into a taxi and went off Beckenham. As she was sitting in the vehicle, nice heat warming up her cheeks, her eyelids were just falling down, tiredness overwhelming her completely. She must've only had two hours of sleep or less, and although there had been nights spent with him, when she hadn't had a wink of sleep at all, this particular night was unusually exhausting due to all the events that happened. She was crushed down with the emotions and feeling so helpless, and so small, next to the problems she was burdened with.

Being at work after spending time with David had always felt a little unrealistic, as if it was too normal thing to do, compared with every second accompanied by him. And this time, after so much stress, pain and determination, the necessity of sitting behind the counter, with some people occasionally asking about records or instruments, was very absurd and mundane.

Mr Furlong had left her to be, heading for his appointment to see the doctor. Needless to say, she had come very late to work today, and she was scared of him sacking her. This is where she did a really nasty thing and excused herself with her mother's poor health state. That was a terrible lie and she hated to do this, especially given that he had taken her in without hesitance when she needed a job.

As she was busying herself with some trivial tasks, such as doing a stocktake, her thoughts were galloping around in every possible direction. She couldn't stop reliving last night's events inside her mind, it was such a horror to even think of it, but the images were floating in front of her eyes as if it was happening all over again. In her life, she had been dealing with unconscious people quite a lot, due to the awful fact of her father being an alcoholic. However, none of those times had she been as afraid as she was when seeing David at the foot of the stairway. She really should've known he was going through a lot of issues, she actually saw that in his eyes, and she read that between the lines. Yet, somehow, she didn't expect it to be this way. What was haunting her the most, was that blank stare of dilatated pupils, and those innocent big blue eyes of his son. Of course, parenthetically, it was a pretty shock to her, and she would've been angry with him, because he should've told her about having a son, once she found out about his wife. But there was no time for such dwelling. She couldn't believe that David was so deep in his own misery, that he had forgotten about that pure little creature. Duncan reminded her very much of Jack, and she just couldn't even imagine Ryan neglecting his son like this.

He needed help. He needed to stop, before the fallout became irreparable.

Her stream of thoughts was interrupted by the ringing sound of the bell. She put down her cigarette, and walked out of the store room, to serve a newcome client, trying to leave the niggling concerns behind the closed door.

★

Guilt. He felt so much guilt it was jostling inside his skull, he could almost hear the bone protecting his brain cracking under the onrush.

He felt even more guilt about the way he chose to deal with this pain. This time, he decided to go on more carefully, but he couldn't go on without it really. Sobriety was such an unnatural state of mind, it seemed to be dimming his brain and making him comatose.

It was a strange thing, that had happened in his life for the last two months. He had been fooling himself into a happy life, happy marriage, but after meeting Ellen, he just knew it was all only dire lies, to make things easier. The drugs, the alcohol, the parties, it all was just a pain relief, to carry on through another day of eternal misery of his. And time, it was slipping through his fingers like ashes of what he had been burning behind him. Keeping himself in a constant state of oblivion and glorious high, he never paid attention, but now he realised that he didn't even _remember _most of the things at all. What he had chosen to be his salvation, was actually shattering him into pieces, and she was the only one to know how to put him back together. But what if he lose her? Hurt her in the most sickening way, just like he had been doing with others?

However, he couldn't stop it. He was dissapointing her, he was dissapointing his son, and most important, he was such a disappointment to himself. He knew it was killing him, but he wouldn't let it. He didn't want to bloody die, hell no! Not whilst there was still so much for him to do in this world.

He tapped the rolled note on the table, and bit his lip, until a metallic taste felt on his tongue. He just needed enough to help him dispose of those oppressive thoughts, but not too much, so he wouldn't finish up like he had last night. One line for a start would be just it.

Suffocating inside his stuffy office room, he opened a balcony door and walked out on a terrace. Despite the sun shining really bright today, the air was rather cold. He was wearing only a white tank top and tracksuit bottoms, so the temperature gave him a shudder. With a smoky cigarette between his lips, he took a few more steps and looked around. From both sides, the garden was enclosed with a tall hedge, which he had had planted to cloister it away from nosy neighbours. Most of its space was covered in grass and various species of plants, mainly imported from Japan and France. Now some of them looked quite withered, and he wanted to slap himself for forgetting to call for his gardener.

Suddenly, the cigarette dropped from his mouth, as he parted it and wide opened his eyes. Duncan was nowhere to be found. Without sparing a second to think, he jumped off the terrace onto the grass and ran straight to the forest.

‘Duncan!ʼ he shouted, turning around and looking behind every tree. ‘Duncan, my son, come on here!ʼ

His guts flamed with terror, and he could barely bear up, shivering so much that his vision got blurred. His bare feet were touching damp grass, with brushwood occasionally hurting them, as he was stepping on some sticks and pines.

‘Duncan!ʼ He stopped running for a moment, just to catch a breath, leaning his back against a tree. His eye was caught by a plush item, peeking out of the thick grass. ‘Bloody hell.ʼ

He approached it and picked it up. The teddy bear looked at him with its gazeless stare. Curses were leaving his mouth, as if it was his kind of a prayer, and he darted ahead, panting desperately. The further he went, the thicker the woods were getting, and he could spot no signs of his son. Cold drops of summer rain started falling on his skin and he went a full circle around the area, just to go back to where he had found the toy.

‘David?ʼ he heard behind him. ‘What the fuck are you doing? Come back, you're catch a cold!ʼ

He turned around and his eyes met Tony, holding Duncan. His heart sunk, and dropping the teddy bear, he stretched his arms and knelt. ‘Jesus, Duncan, you scared me!ʼ

Tony let go of him, and the boy ran straight into David's arms. ‘Don't be cross at me, dad.ʼ

‘I'm not, really, sweetie.ʼ He planted a kiss on his little head. ‘But you got me worried sick. Where have you been?ʼ

‘Where have _you_ been?ʼ Tony knitted his eyebrows, confused, and picked the toy off the ground. ‘I came here, like, ten minutes ago, and your kid was playing in front of the house, he told me you were inside, but the house was empty.ʼ

He looked rather amused with the whole situation, which annoyed David even more. But Duncan seemed to be fine, and it was the only thing that mattered. Even if there hadn't really been anything threatening his life, it was just his own paranoia.

‘Sorry, I was just—ʼ David flicked back a wet strand of hair stuck to his brow, holding Duncan in his arms now. ‘What are you here for exactly?ʼ

‘You've missed another session,ʼ Tony pointed. ‘Nothing important, but we were recording the backups and I thought you'd wanna be there.ʼ

‘Shit,ʼ he muttered, and immediately winced, reminding himself his son was just right here. ‘I forgot about it. I had a tough night, sort of.ʼ

Tony gave him a hard look and smacked his lips. ‘I can tell. Let's get inside now, alright? It's quite chilly, and you're shaking.ʼ

They all went in the house, and David felt pleasant heat, which slowly relaxed the tension on his muscles he didn't even know about. He let Duncan of his grip and the boy jumped to the living room, with happiness only children were allowed to have. Once he was left alone with Tony in the office room, he sat down in his chair and pointed at the other chair with his chin.

‘You should really reconsider hiring a babysitter for the kid,ʼ said Tony, taking his seat and moving the chair closer to the desk. He spared David comments about the little cocaine set scattered all over the desktop, but David saw his disapproval stare.

‘Janet will be back soon, she only left for a week.ʼ

‘Janet is your manager, not your housekeeper, nor a bloody babysitter.ʼ

David dropped his gaze and reached for a cigarette, raising himself up a little. ‘Want a drink?ʼ

‘No. And neither should you.ʼ David just scoffed at his lecturing words, but sat back in his chair. ‘Are you alright?ʼ

David couldn't hold a gloomy laughter. This kind of question he had been hearing a lot these days, and he believed no one really had any bad intentions, but it didn't help a bit. Instead, each time he heard it, it was only bringing him down more.

‘Why the fuck does everyone keep asking me if I'm alright?ʼ

‘Have you even seen yourself recently?ʼ Tony grew a bit irritated by David's ignorantness, and David grew frustrated by Tony's blatancy.

David opened up his mouth to tell him off, but then he just shut it and took a drag instead. The nicotine smoke filled in his lungs once again, and he held it in for a few seconds, before slowly letting it escape his lips.

‘Anywayʼ—Tony let out a sigh—‘if you could make it to the next session, that would be just brilliant. Bloody hell, we were supposed to finish this damn album three months ago in US, and just look at this muddle—So they need to do the chorus for _Fame_ one more time. Lennon is gonna be there, too. And he won't be enduring your quirks and whims. He's a proper star.ʼ

‘He's a shooting star,ʼ David rolled his eyes, his voice raspy, words lazily leaving his mouth. ‘You still can see it, but it's been dead for a long time now.ʼ

Tony stood up and place both his hands on the desktop. He raised his eyebrows, and when he spoke, his lips shivered harshly. ‘If you choose to fuck your life up, I don't care really. You just do your job.ʼ He pointed a finger at David, and poked him on chest. ‘And get a bloody babysitter, or I swear—!ʼ

Frustration and helplessness were taking over his gaze, even though he tried his best to not show. David acted unaffected, and just watched his producer finishing off his cigarette and walking out of the room.

Janet was, just as promised, back really soon. The clock stroke five in the afternoon, when the front door opened and she came in. With loads of luggage, she took a break in the hall, and sat on the biggest luggage to untie her shoes. David came to welcome her, and she gave him a tired, but kind smile.

‘Hello, sweetheart!ʼ

‘Janet, darling, how was Orlando?ʼ

‘Ah, I just wish I wasn't American sometimes!ʼ She waved her hand, standing up and giving him a hug. ‘When your family spreads out all over the country, it better not be USA. Travelling is such a pain in the ass.ʼ

He chuckled. ‘Should've been born in the land of royalties and tea, instead of popcorn and Coca-Cola.ʼ

‘I'd rather that, over the obligation of asking people how their day was and not waiting for the answer!ʼ

They both went forward to the living room, and Janet collapsed in the armchair, clearly exhausted after the long flight. ‘I am going to be so jet-lagged for the next week or so! Would you pour me a drink, please?ʼ She turned to him and clapped her hands, so he just nodded and pulled two glasses out of a cupboard. On second thoughts, he hid one of them back, and poured into just one.

Having it handed to Janet, he sat on a couch, shifting uncomfortably, because it was the armchair where he usually sat, and spoke out, haltingly. ‘I know you have just come, but would you mind look after Duncan tonight? I have yet something to do in the city, and it really mustn't wait.ʼ

Janet looked rather surprised with his request, but she was used to it, and as far as he knew, she didn't mind it. He was aware that Tony was right, he needed a babysitter for Duncan, and he promised himself to deal with this tomorrow. But right now he had another promise to fulfill and only three hours left for the preparation.

‘Of course, you know it's not a problem at all!' she finally gave him her answer, sipping on her gin. ‘But what's the rush, if I may ask?'

David glanced at her, uncertain. ‘I, um—ʼ

She hid a little gasp, covering her mouth with her hand, pretending it was a hiccup. It got him perplexed, because she clearly seemed to know something. Maybe she had seen the same article as Angie had. But maybe, just maybe, he had told her something, while being completely off his face? Why couldn't he remember a bloody thing?

‘Okay, you just go do that stuff that mustn't wait!ʼ she giggled at his confusion. 

He shook his head and sighed. Janet was ten years older, and although they were both adults, she made him feel like a foolish teenager sometimes. He kissed her on the head, and patting her shoulder, he said, ‘Thank you, dear. I owe you big one.ʼ

‘You owe me a big few!ʼ

He did. He really did. And he knew he would just never be able to repay.

He got a feeling that his whole life was based on debts and it was about time to finally do something about them. However, there was another person he wanted to start with, not only because of that, but also because of the craving for seeing them. He picked one of his neatest shirt, a dark-blue one, with little dots all over it, and a pair of trousers, fixed his hair and took a deep breath in front of the mirror in the hall. His face showed symptoms of weariness, but his eyes were still sparkling. And he just knew those sparkles were caused by _her. _She was the only flicker left in his life, and he had to do his best so it wouldn't blow out.

There were only few more things to do, before he could pick her up from her work. Luckily, he had managed to do them all by eight o'clock.

When she left the music shop, he had been already waiting outside, smoking his fifth cigarette, leaning against the wall. She gazed at him astounded, missing the lock with her key a few times.

‘Why are you dressed like you have just ran from some banquet or a gala? Oh my God, you haven't, have you?ʼ

He let out a chuckle. ‘No, silly. I am taking you out.ʼ

Ellen locked the shop, and threw the keys to her bag. ‘You know, I mean, technically we already are out now, so—ʼ

He stopped her, crossing her way and placed hands on her waist. ‘No, love. I am taking _you_ out. For a proper date.ʼ

Of all the things he really adored in her, the blushes on her cheeks were one of his favourites. And every time they appeared, he felt wamrth that was melting his cold-ice heart.

She deserved so much better and he wanted to give her all.


	24. once there were mountains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for diabetics:  
it ain't halloween but here's some sweet treat

If there was one thing to choose, to remain unchanged for the rest of his days, one thing he would trade anything for, just one little thing to fill every second of those he had left - it was, unbeatably, her precious smile. Very few people, if not no one else, had a smile like hers. It was that kind of smile to warm the coldest winter evenings, to move the hardest stones. The smile to put air back into your lungs just to make you feel alive.

‘That film was crap. I am so sorry for insisting on it!ʼ She shook off the ashes of her cigarette and took another drag.

‘I forgive you, because you're in charge tonight. And because of Daltrey. I have a weak spot for The Who.ʼ

‘Who?ʼ She knitted her brows, and he found it so endearing, that he immediately planted a little kiss on her head, chuckling quietly into her dark hair. ‘You forgive me, but you would've chosen better?ʼ

‘But I would've chosen better,ʼ he confirmed with a laugh, and wrapped his arm around her waist.

They walked down Portobello Road, passing long rows of parasols in front of pubs and restaurants. The street was crowded with groups of people, which gave them a shadow of invisibility. He would always worry about being recognised while spending time with her. Although he would never stall his fans, he really didn't feel like signing every little piece of paper for somebody's friends and family members. Fame was exhausting and bloodsucking, and inability of going out without single person calling out your name, was one of the reason he was rarely seen outside. With Ellen, somehow, it had never happened so far.

‘Oh my God, are you David Bowie?!ʼ

Until tonight.

Two young girls stopped them halfway through, both of them not being able to hide excitement, nor even trying to. He automatically fixed sunglasses on his nose, thanking God he was wearing them, even though the sun had been gone for a few hours now.

He glanced at Ellen, and saw she found this situation very stressful. She squeezed his hand and drew closer to his side, as if it was her safe haven. It actually made him feel very uplifted, nice tickling inside his stomach, so he put his arm back around her to comfort her, and they got round the girls.

_‘__Vous devez me prendre pour quelqu'un d'autre_,ʼ he replied in his not-so-perfect French.

The girl flushed with embarrassment and stepped aside, dropping her stare, and her friend followed. ‘Oh_—__Pardon?_ Mister.ʼ

He and Ellen didn't break their escape forward until they reached the end of the walkway. They looked at each other and cracked up with laughter simultaneously.

‘First of all, I am impressed you came up with that idea,ʼ she giggled, as he was lighting a cigarette, feeling relaxed again. However, the remains of strain still didn't want to leave her body, and it showed in her a bit squeaky voice. ‘And second of all, you speak French?!ʼ

_‘__En peu_,ʼ he shrugged innocently. ‘I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable. It's just—I can't do anything about it really.ʼ

She did a little turn under his arm, like a graceful dance move, and stole his cigarette. Her simper was mischievous in the most adorable way, as she breathed out the smoke, walking backwards, face to him. ‘Well, it's part of who you are, isn't it? A part of what your life is, actually. Besides, you did play it off quite nicely, to be honest.ʼ

He took a slight bow and tried to smile, but it only came out as a frown.

‘What is it?ʼ she asked concerned and went back to walking by his side.

‘I don't quite like it really,ʼ he murmured his answer, and because they had made left into a much quieter street, she could perfectly hear every negative emotion in his voice. ‘I just wished it was you and me, and no one to bother us.ʼ

He pulled her closer, and she snuggled up to him. ‘Just don't pay attention to them. I don't. You attract all of my attention.ʼ

David let out a laugh. ‘Are you implying something?ʼ

‘You're just upstaging, that's all.ʼ

‘Upstaging,ʼ he repeated, looking upon the sky. It was dark, but covered in purple and orange clouds, instead of stars. He took a peek at his watch. ‘Alright, darling, I really hope you're hungry, because I got us a table at Wiltons'. I know the chef, he used to own a restaurant in Paris, and I can assure you this man knows what he's doing in kitchen!ʼ

Ellen bit her lip and pulled away a little. He could tell she felt uncomfortable.

‘I don't think it's a good idea, I, um—ʼ She clearly was fighting with some bothering thoughts, but for a reason she didn't know how to share them. ‘I don't want to, it's just—ʼ

He stopped them and fixed his eyes to her face, feeling truly concerned about her behaviour. ‘Is there something I do wrong? Love, just say a word, and we can do anything you'd please.ʼ

‘I don't have money—ʼ she mumbled under her breath, and he could barely understand it, but after some time of processing, he did.

‘Why are you worrying about such nonsense?ʼ He wrinkled his nose, stumped.

‘I can't let you pay for everything, you've already paid for the cinema,ʼ she pointed, dropping her gaze on the ground, purple blushes crawling upon her cheeks. ‘And I know it wasn't cheap, because I have never been to a cinema where they treat you with champagne and sit you on leather sofas.ʼ

His fingertips lifted her chin until she met his eyes. ‘None of this matters if I can't share with you.ʼ

‘Why are you doing all this?ʼ she asked, her stare wandering from one of his eyes to another.

_Because I want you to be happy. I want to make you feel at least half as happy as you make me. Because I would steal the stars from the sky, just so you can have them for your own, if only you wished for it._

Of course, he couldn't say any of this. He didn't want to scare her off, so instead, he just tugged a smile and muttered, ‘To thank you. And make it up to you.ʼ

That didn't make things any less complicated, and she still couldn't understand, she still felt self-conscious, and it was killing him, because he was seeing her as the most wonderful creature in the universe, and she seemed not to believe it at all. She was so humble and pure, that sometimes even he couldn't believe it himself.

‘I haven't done anything, really. Last night, I acted like a normal human being. Anyone would've done the same.ʼ She was avoiding his eyes now, shifting gaze on the wall of the building they had stopped by.

‘Oh, Ellen, but I don't mean just last night,ʼ he sighed, tucking a lose strand of hair behind her ear, and kissed on her temple. ‘But if it will make you feel any better, you get do something for me, too, actually. Just let's go for a dinner first, alright?ʼ

He planted one more kiss, on her brow, and she trembled under the touch of his lips. As he started to look around for a taxi, he suddenly felt her warm lips pressed to his. At first it caught him off guard, but he quickly took control and deepened the kiss, turning her around and pressing her back to the wall. He wanted her so badly, in every possible way, that even if the city had started burning righ now, he wouldn't have been able to pull back from her.

‘You know what, let's just skip dinner,ʼ he panted into her parted mouth, and she just nodded, her stare hazed and her fingers brushing his neck.

With a quick wave of his hand, he stopped the first taxi that passed them. The driver pulled over two feet further, so they rushed to catch it. London at this late hour had the tendency to send random people out of nowhere who steal your cab just the moment you blink. When David opened the door for her, she jumped in, and he followed her. He gave the address, and pulled up the curtain between front and back seats.

The unexpected moment of passion and desire had vaporised in the air. He could still feel the blood rushing in his head, and other parts, but he had to cool out a little. A quick glance at her told him she was hiding her blushes away by staring at the window.

‘Will you give me back my lighter, love?ʼ he asked with a smirk. ‘I need a fag.ʼ

Her hand shot to her pockets and after a moment she pulled out a silver zippo. ‘I'm sorry, I don't know why I keep doing this—!ʼ she groaned with embarrassment.

He leant his head against the window, with his lips stretched in a grin. For a second the inside of the cab enlightened when he flicked his zippo and moved it closer to the tip of the cigarette. The taxi turned right and pulled over by a tall white building with blue gates. They both got out, and David threw his cigarette end on a pavement.

‘What is this place?ʼ Ellen looked around the street and settled her gaze on the gate, but he just gave her an unguessed smile and pushing the door open, let her in first.

‘After you.ʼ

‘I swear to you, if you lock my up in a basement now o-or kidnap me in any other way, I will punch your face, kill myself and haunt you as a ghost for the rest of your days,ʼ she said, turning around to him before grabbing the railway and going upstairs.

‘Jesus, Ellen, as much as tempting it sounds, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. It's just my recording studio.ʼ He rolled his eyes, a short rough laughter escaping his mouth. ‘Besides, in case you didn't notice, we're going up, so there's no chance I'm taking you to my basement.ʼ

‘Don't be such a smart-arse, alright?ʼ she huffed and her voice echoed through the long empty staircase. ‘You drove me into a forest once, do I need to remind you? So I'd rather be cautious, thank you very much.ʼ

As they reached the top of the stairs, David nailed her against the door, before opening it. Her breath tickled him on the neck.

‘And this is you, being cautious?ʼ He fixed her with his stare. ‘Oh, you poor little thing, I'm afraid it's not very effective. After all, you did go with me into this building.ʼ

‘Because I trust you, you moron,ʼ she told him, her eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings as she blinked.

He pecked her on the nose and laughed, pulling back. He unlocked the door and flicked the light switch on. ‘So, anyway, this is where I work.ʼ With his arms spread, he turned around, showing her the whole place.

Ellen's eyes flickered with excitement and curiosity, as she was examining every mixing console and instrument. In the meantime, David put a cigarette between his lips, and before lighting it, he jumped to the glass door, and exclaimed: ‘There's a vocal booth. And here we record the instrument parts.ʼ

He led her into another room, where a great black piano stood majestically in the very centre of it all. Watching her being so interested in everything around them, was the most pleasing thing that had happened to him in this place for a very long time. He hadn't been seen in the studio since last month, and honestly he was too despondent to come back, but now that she was with him, it didn't seem so scary at all. Quite the opposite. He even felt a little excited about going back to work, making some new music. He wanted to share some ideas with her, because his head had been buzzing with plenty.

‘So I've been thinking if you could play something for me, for my new album,ʼ he explained, sitting on a platform, where all of Ronno's guitars stood. ‘I have started this new project, it's quite experimental, and I wanted to include your composition. Of course, if you don't mind. I will pay, your name will be on the back cover of the album, and all—ʼ

Her eyes widened. ‘What? But I'm just an amateur.ʼ

‘You're a fantastic pianist. Believe me, I have heard a lot of professionals in my life and none of them had the ability to put so much heart, passion and _soul _in their pieces.ʼ He stubbed down his cigarette and approached her. ‘I understand if you refuse, it's just a request, not a demand.ʼ

Ellen bit her lip and took a glance at the instrument next to her.

‘Can I—?ʼ she asked timidly, brushing the piano with her fingertips.

‘That's exactly why we're here, love. Go on,ʼ he smiled encouraging, his heart flickering as he saw sparkles in her eyes. ‘I want you to play for me, like you did the other day, in the shop.ʼ

She sat on the stool, and stretched her fingers, but then looked at him abashed. ‘But I don't—That was improvised and I can't possibly repeat it.ʼ

‘I know.ʼ He stood behind her and leant over, moving his lips really close to her neck. ‘Just close your eyes and let it carry you away.ʼ

She listened to him, and as soon as he clicked the recording button, the very first notes that came from under her fingers sent chills down his spine. She played with such grace and such emotions, it made him think that if he ever had to give up all senses and be left with only one, he would choose to keep his hearing. The music was so calm and soothing, it felt like she was sewing up the fresh-opened wounds with each note being another stitch.

‘You're distracting me—ʼ she murmured, her eyes half shut.

‘You tell me,ʼ he scoffed, but kept tracing her skin with his fingers.

She missed a few notes, causing a dissonance in the melody. Every time he nibbled her ear, one of her fingers slipped onto another key. Finally, she played two louder finishing chords and shut the fallboard. He raised his eyebrows, amazed, because even that sounded really brilliant. She would never stop amazing him. And that thought continued ringing inside his mind, as she turned around on the piano stool, cupped his face and pressed her warm lips against his. He lifted her up and sat on the stool, placing her on his lap. Her fingers slipped down his cheeks and neck to the collar of his shirt and undid the first button.

‘You're unbelievable,ʼ he chuckled and let his hands skim through her thighs under her dress.

She didn't back out, it didn't stop her from unbottoming his shirt. ‘Don't tell me you haven't thought about it all day.ʼ Her voice was shaking.

He planted a kiss on both of her exposed collarbones and grabbed on her waist to move them out to the mixing room. With their bodies pressed tight together, and her kisses like little cinders all over his neck and shoulders, he let her dress fall on the floor somewhere on their way to the sofa.

‘I've been thinking about it more than you can imagine.ʼ


	25. on mountains and once

The next few days were filled with butterflies fluttering inside her stomach every time a thought about David popped inside her head. Which was quite a lot, since he was stubborn and didn't want to leave her mind at all. With every smoked cigarette, she could instantly smell his perfume, with every drink of coffee, she heard his laugh. It was pure madness and she knew it, just as much as she knew it was already too late. Despite being afraid of getting involved, her heart didn't seem to ever learn from personal experience. Foolish, how people act, once their hearts have taken over their heads. And her own heart was pure and always opened, even though it had caused many wounds on it so far.

On Friday morning, she received her payment from Mr Furlong, which finally enabled her to pay the rent she had been behindhand with. However, she still failed to pay off the total amount, saving a small sum for herself, due to the fact that her brother was supposed to visit her the next day, so she couldn't drain her wallet completely. Mr Furlong let her get off work a little early, so she could do some shopping before everything closes. All her plans, however, had gone adrift when David entered the shop.

‘Hello, love.ʼ He planted a little kiss on her lips, and her heart fluttered.

‘What are you doing here?ʼ she knitted her brows, surprised.

‘I'm sorry for showing up so unannounced, but I was at the studio and I thought I'd just pop in to say hi.ʼ

‘Oh.ʼ A happy grin tugged at her lips. ‘Hi.ʼ

‘Hi.ʼ He caressed her cheek, paralysing her with his pale blue stare, and after a long moment, shifted it to Mr Furlong. ‘And good afternoon, Vic.ʼ

‘Good afternoon, how are you?ʼ Mr Furlong's greeting was polite, but his brows were furrowed.

Ellen decided to cut in, so he didn't get the idea that she got off early from work to meet with David instead of preparing for her brother's visit. ‘I was just leaving, I need to do some grocery shopping.ʼ

‘I'd be pleased to give you a lift.ʼ He offered her an hand.

A slow nod was her answer, and after saying their goodbyes to Mr Furlong, they left the shop. David pulled out a pack of cigarettes and treated her with one.

‘So, how's working on the album?ʼ she asked, enjoying pleasant warm wind on her face.

It was the beginning of June, and the weather finally started reminding summer. It didn't, of course, foreclosed the rainfalls, however it is a fact, that the Brits do derive pleasure from each raindrops, it gives them a decent reason to complain. People love complaining about irrelevant things, because that makes it easier to silent through the ones that actually matter to them.

And because it didn't rain at this moment, David could do nothing but just shrug. ‘'S alright, I suppose.ʼ

He opened the car door for her, and when she got in, he went around it and hopped in the driver's seat. The engine throbbed aggressively and with a sudden increase of speed, her body lurched backwards. She rolled her eyes, but tightened a grip on a handle. It didn't escape his notice, as he smirked to himself.

‘Show-off.ʼ

‘I have to make sure you get your daily dose of adrenaline,ʼ he murmured in a flippant voice, screwing up his eyes as the sun blinded him a little.

‘No need to put both of our lives at risk, you know, there are much better ways to bring out an adrenaline rush,ʼ she teased, but her cheeks obviously blushed.

David let out a chuckle. ‘We'll get to that later, love.ʼ

She wrinkled her nose, covering her face with a hand to hide a silly grin. There was no one else in the world, who had ever made her feel embarrassed and aroused at the same moment. Although she started this herself this time, her brain refused to function in a normal way after him throwing in that promise of an entertaining evening. In their little innuendo chats, he would always be the one to win.

‘So where should I drop you off?ʼ

The question made her confused, knitting her brows. ‘What?ʼ

Traffic light turned red, so David hit the brakes, until the car stopped before the line. He shifted his stare to her and laughed in disbelief. His eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘You are so easily distracted!ʼ

‘It's not my fault,ʼ she scoffed, crossing her arms. ‘You're the only one to blame!ʼ

‘Don't hate the player, hate the game.ʼ

Ellen shook her head and look outside the window. Streets were full of people wearing only T-shirts and shorts, some of them were eating ice-cream melting in the heat of late low sunshine. It was such a nice view, reminding her of carefree summers, back when she'd still had a summer break. ‘I wish we could take a walk instead.ʼ

‘You can't say such things to me and expect me to help you sort this out. You know I'd always choose spending time with you,ʼ he noticed, raising one eyebrow, eyes fixed to the road. ‘And you have other things to do, I presume.ʼ

Every time he showed up anywhere near, her brain did a quick comparison, weighing up pros and cons. On the one hand, there were her own responsibilities, on the other one, stood him, along with her egoistic needy soul, longing for his presence in every second of her days. It was pathetic, her falling so hard for him. But who wouldn't, if they were her? This man, who had appeared in her life out of nowhere, flipped it upside down almost instantly. He captured her foolish brain in a net and held it over the edge of a bloody skyscraper's roof – this is exactly how it felt to be with him. Constant adrenaline rush, whether he was hitting the pedal to the metal in his jaguar car, or not.

‘Yeah, I'll do that tomorrow morning.ʼ

His lips twisted in a beam, showing his dimples. ‘Let's take a walk then.ʼ

He bucked the wheel left in one deft move, and the vehicle turned to the roadside. He stopped it, parking along the street, and pulled the handbrake. Before she could grab the door handle, he was already there to open the door for her. It was a really sweet gesture, which always made her heart flutter.

Every day spent in his company was as exciting as Sunday in a theme park to a child. Expect the attractions never seem to bore her. Maybe it wasn't anything special that they were doing, but she still felt there was no other place or time she'd rather be. Whether he was showing her the most beautiful starry sky or simply having coffee with her at his favourite café – it didn't really matter, she enjoyed every form of associating with him. Their relationship was, indeed, very complicated and there were certain things neither of them wanted to bring up. However, it was a problem for later, as they both tacticly agreed on leaving it for the future and just enjoying the presence.

‘—and so I had them removed from the tracklist, and since I added a few more new pieces, the title's gonna be different now.ʼ

‘So no more _The __Gouster_?ʼ

‘No more _The __Gouster._ʼ He smiled. Glancing at him from time to time, as they were walking through Regent's Park, warm sunshine sparkling in the eddying surface of the Boating Lake, she could tell he looked much better now. It had only been few days and of course his face and fingers were still way too skinny, but the shades encircling his eyes faded a bit, and his smile got brighter and more genuine. ‘There's a whole hell of lot of work to do and I bet Tony will want me dead, since the album's already late on the deadline—Anyway, I decided to use one of the shots from a photoshoot we did back in America, for an art cover, so there's one less problem to deal with.ʼ

Ellen's eyes widened. ‘Please, just don't tell me you're using a no-eyebrows photo!ʼ

‘I _am_ using a no-eyebrows photo, darling,ʼ he replied with a smirk, allowing his fingers to intertwine with hers.

‘It's creeping me out so much.ʼ

‘If you ever decide on having this album, I promise to draw the eyebrows on its cover myself.ʼ

His solemn vow made her giggle. ‘I can't wait to see _that!_ʼ

David reached for a cigarette from his pack and put it between his lips. ‘There are still so many things I can surprise you with, you have no idea, my dear.ʼ

She knew just how right this sentence was. David was a constant sequence of surprises to her. Just when she thought she got to know him quite well, he would suddenly pop up with something unexpected and absolutely staggering. He was truly an astonishing man and his mind was stashing secrets, riddles and puzzles which were never to be fully solved. Perhaps that was the most magnetising quality of his.

As the sun went down, the evening grew colder, and she hadn't taken her jacket from home earlier. Families were slowly disappearing from the streets, giving place to the party-goers instead. Just like David had told here the other day, Brixton wasn't the safest area during the night, especially on the weekends. Having that on minds, they decided to quit their little walk. However, it was still early and the vision of them ending their encounter, wasn't the most pleasant one.

When David offered to walk her home and a few minutes later they were standing in front of her door, she hesitated over opening it.

‘Maybe you wanna come in?ʼ she asked timidly, lifting her eyes to him. His soft stare and a patient smile made her go weak in the knees. With his lips so close to hers, it was nearly impossible to focus on anything else but fighting the urge to kiss them. ‘We can listen to some music maybe, o-or have a drink. It's Friday, so unless you have other plans—ʼ

He was looking down at her, waiting for her to stutter out the words he had been clearly expecting to hear. ‘I'd love to.ʼ

It was past nine o'clock and when they entered the hall, she could smell a nice scent of a freshly baked pie from behind her landlady's door. Mrs Joyce was quite a baker, and Ellen got invited over for tea very often, but never really had time to accept the invitation. This time, as the door was opening, she knew she'd have to decline it once again.

‘Hello, Mrs Joyce,ʼ she smiled at the old woman in a yellow floral housecoat.

‘Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetie, I thought you were alone!ʼ she whispered, glancing at David, a huge grin upon her face. ‘Good evening, Mr—?ʼ

‘Oh, Jones.ʼ He approached her and reached out for her hand to shake it. ‘David Jones. We've met, actually.ʼ

‘Have we?ʼ Mrs Joyce raised her brows, confused. ‘I'm so sorry, my memory fails sometimes! It's silly how I tend to forget such things, yet somehow still remember perfectly every single word of _My Funny Valentine_.ʼ

‘Don't we all?ʼ A charming smile tugged at his lips, as he took Ellen's hand.

Mrs Joyce's eyes sparkled with excitement at this little gesture, but then she cleared her throat and said, ‘I'm making a cherry pie. I know it's little late, but it's my son's birthday tomorrow and I hope he'll come and visit! If you'd like, you can both come in and try it, I have just taken it out of the oven.ʼ

Ellen glanced at David, searching for his honest opinion. His eyes, however, looked much more hungry that his stomach probably was, and it sent shivers through her whole body. She shifted her stare to Mrs Joyce and smiled sheepishly. ‘I'm sure it's delicious, but, er—we have actually this thing to do and—ʼ

‘Ellen is helping me up with some songwriting,ʼ David cut in, seeing her get so ruffled.

‘Oh, you're a musician?ʼ Mrs Joyce got interested. ‘Tell me, young man, do you know Sinatra?ʼ

David let out a little laugh, which was polite, but to Ellen it sounded rough and stilted. ‘Yes, I actually happened to meet him in person, once or twice. Lovely gentleman.ʼ

Ellen scoffed under her breath, taking a note in her head to ask him about that later.

‘Oh, he is, isn't he?ʼ Mrs Joyce said dreamily. ‘Alright then, I'll leave you two. If you change your minds, I'll be happy to treat you with a slice of the pie and some tea!ʼ

‘Thank you, Mrs Joyce. Have a good evening,ʼ Ellen said and David nodded, joining in her words.

As soon as the door closed back behind the woman, they walked up the stairs. It saddened her a little, the encounter with her landlady. She was a lovely person, always kind and helpful, and despite having two sons, she would always be alone in her flat.

She waved away these thoughts and fished for her keys. David leant against the wall and waited, but she could feel his intense stare the whole time she was unlocking the door to her room. Revealing its interior, she felt a bit disgraced for a second, as she remembered his big, beautiful house and had it compared to her own place. She dropped the keys on a drawer by the door and walked inside.

‘So, do you want a drink or maybe some—ʼ She didn't get to finish the sentence, because her lips were suddenly shut with his.

‘I only want you, darling. That's everything I'll ever need,ʼ he whispered avidly, leaning his forehead against hers, her body pinned to the kitchen counter.

The sudden change of mood, from sweet and caring, to aroused and devoted, made her brain go mad. _He_ made her go mad, and every kiss planted upon her skin was a burning stamp of lust and passion.

Taking off their shoes first and then the rest of unnecessary clothes, they traced their way to her bed. She struggled to unbutton his shirt, and bloody hell, why couldn't he just wear sweaters or polo T-shirts?! Their breaths got fast and eager, and she could feel blood rushing up to her cheeks, causing her fingers to numb with coldness and making it even harder for her to deal with that shirt.

For one short moment she slightly pulled away from his lips, just to murmured against them, ‘I'm all yours and I'm sure there's no need to remind you that.ʼ

He puffed the air from his lungs in a long gasp, as she slid her hand down his bare chest to the leather belt and unbuckled it. His eyelids were half shut, yet he observed every move she made. After removing the belt from the loops, she wanted to throw it away, but he grabbed on her wrist and held it up. His other hand reached for the belt, and nailing her hands up to the bed frame, he looked her in the eyes, his own being dark and sparkling with unpredictability.

‘Are you absolutely sure about your words? That you're all mine?ʼ

His commanding attitude got her stunned and tongue-tied, so the only thing she was able to do was nod slowly. With her confirmation, he wrapped the belt around her wrists and tied them up to the bed frame. She was fully exposed to him now, lying down so defenceless, only in her underwear, which he got rid off very quickly. He could do anything he wished with her, and that thought made her body burn with derising. His fingers traced down her skin, from her lower lip, through her neck, collarbones, then nipples and hips, down to her thighs. He played with her, teased her, straddling her so she couldn't move overmuch. With only his touch, he was driving her to the edge of sanity, tearing down every piece of her mind. Setting hands on both sides of her head, he forced his knee between her legs to open her up. She didn't resist and soon he filled her in, drawing a muffled moan from her mouth. The fervour in his efforts to kiss every piece of skin of her neck without missing one inch, the intoxicating touch of his lips and his eager hands.

She bathed in the raspy sound of his voice, when he mumbled desperately, nibbling on her earlobe, ‘I will never give you away to anyone. You're mine, exclusively mine, darling. And I belong to you, if only you'd take me.ʼ

‘I wish for nothing else—ʼ The muscles on his back flexed under her fingers as he shifted deeper inside her, consuming every atom of air out of her lungs. Her body, despite being held in his cold firm arms, rose up into space.

If being with him was like Sunday in a theme park, then the sex was definitely a bloody roller-coaster.


	26. there were sun birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry if there are any unfinished sentences or other nonsense bullshit, i am tired and i'll proof it later (this is literally a disclaimer i should be putting with every chapter because i'm a lazy-arse)

****The chirp of the birds outside created a pleasant morning melody, which floated through the window to her flat and filled the room. Ellen opened up heavy eyelids and blinked a few times. The other side of her bed was empty, although she could swear it hadn't been when she was falling asleep. The feeling of warm firm arms around her waist flickered back in her memory. She definitely hadn't fallen asleep alone. With no need of looking around, she knew he had left. It wasn't the nicest way to end a night like the previous one, but aware of the type of his job, she was used to him doing that quite often. Usually though, he would leave a note or anything, and this time there was none.

She walked to the kitchen counter and put the kettle on. The cupboard, where she stored coffee, was slightly opened, and she looked inside it, but the metal box with black grounded beans was empty. She let out a groan, and settled for tea this time. Waiting for the water to boil, she sat on the workshop and lit the last cigarette from a Gitanes pack that David must've left.

They had been sleeping together for awhile now, but last night had been peculiarly exceptional. He was a gorgeous man, intelligent and charismatic, but he even more remarkable in bed. He made her experience things she had never felt before. He made her feel unique and valuable, even if she didn't normally feel this way at all. Every memory of last night laved her face with hot blushes, especially when her eyes wandered to the messy bed.

A loud knocking roused her from the meditation. She drowned the cigarette in the sink and jumped off the counter, knitting brows in confusion.

‘Hello, sis! Hope I didn't wake you.ʼ

Ryan's face was the least expected thing to see behind the door, although it wasn't an unannounced visit at all. She forgot about it. It had completely slipped her mind, despite the fact they both had discussed the details of his coming to London over the phone many times before. She had given him the address and promised to devote the whole Saturday to him and Jack. Except Saturday was today. And it made perfect sense actually, since yesterday was Friday. She just _forgot _about it.

A muffled sigh escaped her mouth as she covered face with hands. ‘Oh my God.ʼ

‘Aunt Ellen!ʼ Jack walked from behind Ryan and cuddled to her waist, because he simply couldn't reach any higher.

‘Hello, little one.ʼ She patted his shoulder and smiled, looking down at him. ‘I told you not to call me an aunt, remember? Makes me feel like I'm your dad's age or something.ʼ

‘Hey, that was an offending one,ʼ Ryan scoffed, crossing his arms, but after Jack let go of her, he gave her a quick hug too.

‘Come in, guys.ʼ She stepped back, inviting them inside. ‘I'm so sorry it's such a muddle here, I must be honest, I kinda overslept. Anyway, I was just making tea, you want some?ʼ

Entering her little flat, Ryan and Jack both nodded yarely at the tempting proposition. Her brother took a look around the room and smacked his lips.

‘It's a nice spot you've got here! Very cosy.ʼ

‘Well, it may not be the greatest place to live in, but I'm managing somehow on my own,ʼ she said, pouring more water into the kettle.

She realised the only thing she was wearing was her dressing gown, and despite them being family, it made her feel uncomfortable and inappropriate. She excused them for a minute and having grabbed some clothes from the drawer, she went to the bathroom to change. Shower stall in the corner of the room looked tempting and she suddenly was stroke with a great need of using it, so giving herself three minutes, she walked in. As the water was falling down and washing over her dry skin, she was making some plans for her day with them. After the quick shower, she stood in front of a mirror, drying hair with a towel. As her head tilted left, she noticed two ruddy marks on her neck and looking closer, she wrinkled her nose. Her skin, not only on the neck, but also her breasts and sides, were full of little but very visible love bites. She felt embarrassment crawling upon her face, as she wrapped her hair in the towel and rummaged through her make-up bag. Usually she didn't wear much make-up, but there were times a concealer turned out to be her best friend and this situation was definitely counted as one. Using it on her skin, didn't completely covered up the red bruised, but it made them a little less stickout. She put on a blue flared dress with little flowers on its collar and brushed her wet hair, before leaving the bathroom with best hopes Ryan wouldn't suspect anything. Otherwise, she would be doomed for the rest of the day, plied with all those uncomfortable questions.

‘So, what do you wanna do first?ʼ She clapped and went back to preparing tea for them, as the kettle started whistling now. ‘The crows?ʼ

‘They're ravens!ʼ Jack corrected her pituongly.

‘Obviously,ʼ Ryan smirked and pulling an ashtray closer to him on the table, he lit a cigarette. ‘I was thinking we could go to the zoo maybe? I mean, we have been there a few times, but this little popper never seems to get enough of it.ʼ

Ellen chuckled and set three mugs on the table Jack and Ryan were sitting by. Just when she was about to ask Jack about his opinion, the front door's handle lowered. As the door were pushed opened, the chain lock stopped it with a rattling noise. Wondering who could be visiting her at this hour on Saturday morning, she rushed to unlock it.

‘Morning, love. I brought some coffee, 'cause I couldn't find any in your kitchen, also the fridge was quite empty, and seriously, my dear, how can you live like this? And—Oh.ʼ David stopped in the middle of the room, as his gaze finally found two extra people who hadn't been there before. ‘Good morning.ʼ

Two paper cups in a cardboard holder tipped to one side and the hot coffee spilled on David's hand. He hissed and put the cups away, waving his hand, which got slightly red.

‘Would you excuse me for a moment,ʼ he murmured and disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Ellen blinked, astounded and completely lost for words, but her facial express wasn't even half as blank as Ryan's.

‘Was that—ʼ Ryan squinted, his brain trying its best to process the situation that had just taken place. ‘Did you drug me? Because I think I have just seen David Bowie coming in through the front door of your flat and into your bathroom.ʼ

Ellen sat down by the desk and hid her face in hands. There was going to be lots of explaining she was really not prepared for at all.

‘Well, actually—ʼ

‘Is that_ David fucking Bowie?_ʼ he mouthed to her in utter disbelief.

‘Okay, just shut up and don't freak out, alright?ʼ she groaned, rising her hands in a calming gesture.

Jack was the only one to remain totally unaffected by the situation. It was quite unusual of him, just sipping on his tea and playing with a plush dinosaur, but it surely suited for them. She wouldn't be able to calm down two person. Well, three. She was already struggling with calming herself too.

‘I'm so sorry. Didn't know you were expecting guests,ʼ he told her, his stare very confounded. Turning back to her brother, he stretched his hand and spoke in a good manner he always had. ‘Hi, I'm David.ʼ

‘Ryan. Ellen's brother.ʼ The last two words were emphasised, as if Ryan was trying to force David on revealing his relation with Ellen too.

‘Oh, a brother!ʼ he exclaimed with amusement and some kind of odd relief. ‘Pleased to meet you.ʼ

‘What, did you think I'm having a secret spouse and a child?ʼ she scoffed under her breath.

A strange look from David was the only answer she got for that. Frankly, it was actually better this way, because hearing again in her mind what she had just said, sounded just awfully nasty and unnecessary.

David came closer to the table and knelt beside Jack. ‘And this little champ is—?ʼ

‘I'm Jack,ʼ the boy said timidly.

‘Oh, like Jack and the Beanstalk?ʼ

Jack nodded, a glad grin stretching his lips and showing two of the milk teeth missing. ‘Yes. I like that tale very much. Daddy reads it to me before sleep sometimes.ʼ

‘Hey, that's a really neat diplodocus! You know what? If you ask your dad very nicely, maybe he'll take you to the Natural History Museum. They have those huge skeletons of real dinosaurs there!ʼ Jack's eyes, despite claiming he wasn't so much into dinosaurs anymore, sparkled with excitement as he was hearing David's words.

There was something about David that made children immediately adore him. He had this sort of pure and dreamy way of thinking, which was clearly tangible at times it wasn't corrupted by the real-life problems. It could be seen in the way he gazed into a starry sky or talked about his most absurd dreams. Deep inside, he was still a child himself, even though the surroundings caused him to bury it and accommodate to the painfully ruthless rules of the world.

‘Had I known you were coming, I'd bring you something too.ʼ David stood up and gave Ryan an apologetic smile. The whole situation was clearly new to him and got him quite stumped. Nonetheless, since David was very much himself, he managed to remain polite and classy.

The paper bag he had left on the table was slightly soaked up with spilled coffee, but he handed it to Ellen and when she looked inside, she found two bagles and a blueberry muffin. A smile tugged at her lips, because they had talked once about their favourite muffin fillings and he remembered hers. It was, once again, a small gesture, but warmed her heart, because he _cared. _She wanted to give him a kiss, but had to contain herself for the sake of her brother's presence and the fact he still looked really confused and shocked with all of this.

‘Thank you,ʼ she just stuttered instead, with a sheepish smile tugging one corner of her lips.

‘Anyway, I'll be off now, you've clearly planned on some family time—ʼ

Before Ellen could even give some thought to it, her mouth opened and the words just came out, as if she was in no control over her own system. ‘Maybe you wanna join us? Take Duncan, we'll go to the zoo.ʼ

This bold offer got him speechless and it was so adorable, that she barely held back a giggle. Ryan also sensed his unusual nervousness, which wasn't hard to sense at all, and formed a kind smile upon his face, that smile he had worn whenever Ellen was worrying or getting stressed with silly and irrelevant matters.

‘Yeah, you should come with us!ʼ he encouraged him. ‘Besides, I don't trust Ellen as the greatest tour guide really.ʼ

David grunted and took a moment of silence, before his facial expression eased and he nodded. ‘Alright then. I will need about an hour to go get my son from home though, if that's okay with you.ʼ

‘Sure,ʼ Ellen said softly, both of them still standing in the middle of the room.

After David said goodbye to Ryan and Jack, Ellen walked him to the door downstairs. The tension in his moves and in his eyes was almost touchable.

‘This might be the first time.ʼ She brushed his shoulder, as they stopped beside the door, face to face.

He took her hand and planted a little kiss on the palm. ‘The first time of what, love?ʼ

‘Of me seeing you being actually nervous,ʼ she chuckled, leaning against the wall. ‘Oh, don't be. Ryan's a moron sometimes, but he is tolerable. And Duncan will surely be very happy to spend some time with you. He really needs it.ʼ

‘Don't have to remind me of how shitty father I am,ʼ he muttered with a wry smile, dropping his gaze. ‘'S a bit weird, though, isn't it? He's your older brother. You probably weren't ready for me to meet your family. You haven't even mentioned your family once,ʼ he noticed in a gentle voice, not intending to put any pressure on her.

She hadn't realise it until now, but it was true. The subject of her family was a particularly tough one and she kept evading it. Even now, for fear of him digging into her past, she pressed their lips together, before he got a chance to speak again. He moaned into her mouth and pinned her to the wall, deepening the kiss, but then quickly pulled away.

‘Half past eleven, by the main entrance?ʼ he said with a simper.

Her mind was all over the place, but she cleared her throat and fixed her hair. ‘Yeah. See you then.ʼ

After going back to Ryan and Jack, she ordered them to get ready and finished her cooled down coffee in one sip. Soon all three of them took the tube to Oxford Circus and walked to Regents Park from there. The weather was nice; with a slight touch of the sun, fresh air and pleasant wind, it was just right for visiting the zoo. Jack was holding his father's hand and jumping across the poodles that remained after the morning rain, while she and Ryan were smoking cigarettes and talking about unimportant subjects, avoiding that one he clearly wanted to dissertate.

They had arrived a little early – it was eleven o'clock, so David still had half an hour to show up. Luckily, there was a playground near the main entrance to the zoo, so they decided to wait there. Sitting on a bench, with Jack building a castle for his dinosaur in the sandpit, Ryan finally made up his mind that he couldn't hold it back any longer.

‘Okay, Ellen, we really need to talk about this,ʼ he blurted, and she let out a resigned sigh. ‘I don't want to pry into your personal life, but this is extremely strange and I'm sorry, but I need some explanations.ʼ

Ellen groaned, shifting discomfortably. ‘Jesus Christ, Ryan—I really don't know what to say. I believe you can rely on your own assumptions with this one.ʼ

‘So, you and him?ʼ

‘I don't fucking know!ʼ she exclaimed, receiving glares from a few passerby with their children and from Ryan himself. ‘Sorry.ʼ

‘This is insane.ʼ He shook his head. ‘This is pure madness. How come, the two of you even, how have you met?ʼ

‘I, er—I spilled coffee on his shirt.ʼ Ellen bit her lip, waiting for his reaction. She was aware of how ridiculous and unbelievable it sounded. ‘And dropped my book. And we met again in the shop I work in. He gave me back the book and asked me out, for a coffee,ʼ she shrugged.

‘What sort of a silly romantic comedy crap is this?ʼ His voice was soaked with annoyance, but in fact he was just worried and the eyes showed it perfectly. ‘Listen, El. You know I do feel nostalgic for Space Oddity, ever since I got pissed with Holland and Ted, and they sang it to me while spinning me on a carousel on a playground, and I admit there were times I imagined meeting him just to ask what the fuck a bipperty-bopperty hat isʼ—he reached for another cigarette and having it lit, exhaled the first dose of its smoke—‘but I've heard shit about him and all friends of his, and it's not pleasant. And the fact he has a son?! I mean, it's pretty tough. He may seem to be a charming lad, he must be, given his job, but are you sure he's what you think of him?ʼ

‘What's that even supposed to mean?ʼ she scoffed at his lecture.

Siblings relationships are allegedly the strongest ones, but also providing the most conflicting emotions. Which probably makes them the most authentic. Ellen could be hating him one second, but deep inside she knew he only meant her well. There wasn't a slightest shadow of rudeness in his words. Still, she just wanted to shut his mouth or at least stuck her fingers in her ears. This in turn would make her less mature than Ryan's five years old son.

‘It means you're my sister and if he's your boyfriend or whatever, I feel obligated to stay sharp and caution,ʼ he stated stridently. ‘Even if all my primary instincts tell me I should confess my love for him and ask for an autograph instead.ʼ The way his voice faltered with the last words drew a chuckle out of her mouth. Ryan wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer. ‘I'm just worried 'bout you. But as long as you're happy, I'm happy for you too.ʼ

Her lips stretched in a wide beam. ‘Are you nervous?ʼ

‘Bloody hell I am! You didn't include this in our schedule for Saturday trip to London!ʼ

They pulled away and sighed simultaneously, and laughed. Soon, according to Ryan's watch, the time to meet David in front of the zoo came, so they called Jack and headed towards the entrance. The orange red hair flashed before her eyes for one second, before it was hidden under a checked beret with accents matching his purple braces. His sense of style amazed her every time she saw him. Only he could wear high-waisted suit trousers, a striped shirt and a beret for an outing to the zoo, and still not look odd or overdressed. With a cigarette between his lips, hands in his pockets, he was laughing and chatting with a little fair-haired boy. As the three of them were coming closer, Ellen's brain packed her head with doubts. How should they act in front of Ryan? In front of Duncan? Should they greet with a kiss on the cheek? Should they wave and exchange their hellos? Is it inappropriate if they hold hands?

All of her doubts were not so much or solved, but dissipated, when David leaned over her and brushed her lips with his. ‘Hello, darling.ʼ

Her eyelids fluttered in a surprise.

‘This is my son, Duncan.ʼ David put both palm of his hands on boy's shoulders and pushed him gently towards them.

Duncan and Jack, following Ellen's assumptions, almost immediately hit it off. Of course they needed a few minutes to let go of their uneasiness, especially Jack, who didn't play with many other children. But they found common ground very quickly and as soon as they purchased the tickets and entered the zoo, both of the boys went ahead and split from the older part of their little group. Big elephants and a pride of lions seemed to be incomparably more fascinating than three adults talking about the weather.

To Ellen, a conversation about the weather was always a clear sign of trying to fill in the silence with a nonsense babble. However, the reason for that wasn't the lack of other subjects, but rather the awkwardness and uncertainty of what they could speak of. Ellen tried to open both of the men, but it didn't go quite well. She started to beat herself up for this idea, because what had she actually expected from such a spontaneous encounter?

When she let out the ultimate sigh of surrender, Ryan pulled out his pack of cigarette and groaned. This caught David's attention and with a pinch of amusement and sincere compassion, he treated him with one of his, which Ryan accepted, a sense of relief brightening up his face. They both lit their cigarettes and stopped by the giraffes' run, where their sons were pointing at the animals and shouting with enthusiasm.

‘So, David,ʼ Ryan muttered, looking somewhere in the distance, over the giraffes' heads. ‘I need to ask you something, it's been really nagging at me for a while.ʼ

Ellen twitched a little, concern about what he might want to say. She didn't want him to scare David off.

‘Yes?ʼ

‘What on bloody earth is a bipperty-bopperty hat?ʼ He knitted his brows in serious consternation.

David burst into laughter. ‘Okay, so have you watched Cinderella?ʼ

‘I have a younger sister,ʼ Ryan replied vaguely, rolling his eyes.

‘Well, so it's quite nothing like this,ʼ David cut and discreetly grabbed her hand.

His touch was cold, but in a very pleasing way and it gave her comfort, the same comfort he craved from her. She was so grateful for him to make an effort to assimilate into this unusual situation he had been put it. However, thinking of what he had said earlier in the morning, about her not being ready for him to meet her family, she couldn't really disagree. She wasn't ready and probably never will be. With Ryan, on the other hand, it was different, he was the only part of this family who took a slightest interest in her. Parents were always busy with their own problems, and her other brother, Harold, he was just a difficult person and they hadn't even spoken for years. Ellen knew that if her relationship with David was leading up to anything more serious than just a fling, she would have to tell him eventually about the bloody mess she called family. But maybe Ryan was the only one she should acknowledge as real family. After all, it wasn't the blood, it was the bond that make one your family.

She smiled at Ryan, who was bustingly blathering on the influence of sixties on modern rock music, and squeezed David's hand tighter, joining the vivid discussion, despite having no idea about that topic really.

Having the two most important men in her life by her side, all her concerns disappeared for a moment. Even with the constant fear that Ryan _would _ask David for an autograph eventually, this Saturday was very enjoyable.


	27. to soar with and once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to another chapter of uneventful, cheesy and shitty, have a nice evening

A week had passed and during that week not much had changed.

Except for a party or two, where David had too much. That didn't matter though, he promised himself to never do that again.

Things with Ellen were great and he had never felt so alive. She was so pure and kind, it was hard to believe she willingly chose to stick with him. Despite doing all he could to treat her the way she deserved to be treated, he still found it not enough. She and Duncan got on very well, which made David happier than ever, and she even had disposed of that feeling of uneasiness cause by staying at his place. Thanks to that, he could enjoy her company more often, without the necessity of asking Janet to watch his son. The searching for a babysitter was still in progress. To be honest, it was still on hold. Although David was always an utter perfectionist about work, if it comes to life problems, he would rather keep pushing them away for as long as possible. It wasn't a good solution, it wasn't actually a solution at all, but only then he could fill in the void in his heart and feel joy. Dealing with problems wasn't really his best stamp.

Causing himself problems, on the other hand, was something he knew how to succeed at.

The new, brushed up album was almost out, and due to its new name, which was _Young Americans, _it meant soon he'd have to leave for a promo tour around USA. This morning, when she was asleep, he received a call phone from Tony, who wanted to set a date of their depart to book a flight. He hadn't told anything Ellen yet, but he hoped she'd understand. Of course there was nothing he wanted more than her coming with him, however he was fully aware of her responsibilities. He'd ask her, but the refusal was already stinging on his cheeks like winter frosty wind. He was scared to go without her, scared that Los Angeles would kill him off again, just as it always did.

For now though, he had her and he just didn't want to bother about the future.

‘What are you thinking about?ʼ

‘You,ʼ he shrugged just to see her cheeks flush in the most beautiful way.

There were so many things they needed to discuss and all of them were filling him with fear of spoiling all they had at the moment. However, sitting in the backyard of his house, under the starry night sky, and feeling her body next to his, he couldn't do anything but enjoy her presence. She had been a bit off the whole day and he was waiting for the right moment to ask what happened, or for the right moment for her to just tell him. It was difficult to focus around hee though. She looked so gorgeous, in her airy dress and his jacket, curled up in his embrace as if he was a shelter to her, when it was she, whom he considered his safe haven.

The night was calm and a little chilly, but the sky looked so marvelous Ellen had almost begged him to go outside. He had spread out a blanket on the grass and brought a few cushions so it was more comfortable. He chose his favourite pinot noir wine from the drinks cabinet and regaled her with a glass. When they were halfway through the bottle, her lips already tingled with tempting red because of the wine and it was almost impossible not to kiss them. He didn't even try to see how long could he hold it back, or maybe that was it – maybe that was only those few seconds after glancing at her, before he leant in and touched the sweet, full lips with his.

‘David—ʼ she hummed into his mouth, her voice vibrating on its surface.

‘Yes, love?ʼ He moved his lips down, placing little kisses on her jawline now to allow her to speak.

She was sitting between his legs, as he was embracing her from behind, his arms tight around her waist.

‘I was wondering—Maybe you don't wanna talk about it, and if you don't, just say it and I'll shut my mouth—ʼ

‘I assure you I'll shut them myself unless you hurry up with what you want to say,ʼ he muttered, the scent of her skin on the neck driving him mad.

She placed her hands on his, and tilted her head right to face him. The light blue eyes were dimmed with uncertainty and nervousness, which got him worried immediately.

‘What is this?ʼ she finally choked out.

Without any context given, her question threw him off track. He tried to read anything from her face, but it was so full of different emotions, it only confused him more. ‘What do you mean?ʼ

Even in the weak light of a candle standing next to the bottle of wine, her cheeks visibly flushed. She dropped her gaze, looking rather resigned. Of all her traits, one of the most frustrating to him was her self-consciousness. He wouldn't call himself an overconfident person, in spite of being more self-assured now, shyness was lying in his nature. But Ellen was seeing herself so much less than she really was. Sometimes when she spoke and he didn't hear it all, she was too trepid to repeat her words. He had to admit that he adored that side of her - looking so small and frighten, and her eyes brightening up after he held up her chin and gave her a reassuring smile. He found it quite adorable most of the times. However, this time he just wanted her to speak up her mind. Although both of them acted like they didn't need to raise up certain subjects, deep inside he really wished they'd just sat down and talked it through.

‘Please, gorgeous one, just tell me.ʼ

Ellen turned her whole body around so now she was facing him. She sat on her heels, placing hands on his knees positioned on both of her sides. Her stare was still avoiding him, when she spoke up.

‘I mean _us._ʼ The last word was said so quietly, it barely rang in his ears. But once it did, it was ringing there for a longer moment.

When she lifted her eyes to meet his, he cupped her face and joined their lips together like jigsaw puzzle pieces, embracing her lower lip with both of his. The kiss was tender and unhurried. He wanted to show her every slightest amount of affection he had for her, and there was plenty of it.

After pulling back from the kiss, she let out a sigh.

‘Did I do something wrong?ʼ

‘No. It's just—I know actions should speak more than words. But what if I got it all wrong? What if I made this perfect vision in my head and you're not—ʼ She struggled to say it, but he just waited patiently. ‘—What if you don't feel the same about me? It's pathetic, I know, but I've been let down so many bloody times and I am so scared, and now it's all wonderful, you, me, the stars, the kisses, everything, but what if we actually have different expectations, what if you just want—ʼ

‘Alright, I feel the need to stop you right there, because it's just getting absurd,ʼ he interrupted harshly, raising his hand. She scanned him, a bit of confusion combined with embarrassment on her face. ‘You need words? I understand it. You must know first that I haven't done it before, because I usually fail with my promises. And I'd rather rely on feelings than words, because the latter are just some sounds you may throw at anyone, without even meaning them. And believe me or not, but I wouldn't do any of this, if I didn't care about you. You wanna hear me saying this out loud? Alright. I will. But be aware of the fact once it's said it cannot be unsaid.ʼ He stared deeply in her eyes, feeling lost in the depths of the blue waters of her irises. No, they actually were the colour of forget-me-nots. That was much better description. And much more accurate, because he would never be able to forget them. ‘And once I say it, it will be even more real. I can only hope it's what you want, not just what you think you want.ʼ

Her face was pale and blank. A slight nod was her answer and a boost for him to go on.

‘I adore you. I crave you. I want you in every possible meaning of this word. I can't stand a single day without you, and every minute is physical torture. The awareness that you put up with me through thick and thin, predominantly by thin, feels so unreal, that sometimes when you're not looking, I genuinely have to pinch my arm or count my fingers to make sure it's not a bloody dream. You got to know me as a human being and it feels so special, because no one else really cares about _me_. And with you I feel like I should just leave it all behind and run away to a place we could be on our own. Your smile is the most sincere thing I've seen in years, and your eyes give me the reason to get out of bed in the morning. And the way you bite your lip—Christ, girl, if you only knew what you do to me!ʼ he said through gritted teeth, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘You make me wanna be a better person so that I deserve you. Because, despite my desperate efforts, I surely don't and I am so fucking scared I'll mess this up.ʼ

She gazed at him with eyes wide-opened and didn't say a word. It got him worried once again, because he couldn't say whether she was stunned or just embarrassed with him.

‘I've already told you I belong to you. You own every piece of me, even though it's all just tattered rubbish, you make it valuable somehow.ʼ He took her small pale hand and raised it up to plant a gentle kiss on its palm. ‘Just please, love—don't let me mess this up.ʼ

She clasped her hands loosely behind his neck and pulled him closer, their foreheads touching now. Her eyes were shining and he only discovered there were tears when one of them fell on her cheek. He immediately kissed it away, salty taste between his wet lips. For some reason, it wasn't a happy tear.

‘I—I'm not looking for temporary things in life. I'm done with temporary. Doesn't it scare you off?ʼ

‘Ellen, my sweet creature,ʼ he sighed, tucking a loose strand of black hair behind her ear. ‘I really hope you know what it means. Because of my job and everything—it will never be normal. I will never be able to guarantee you a normal life.ʼ

She interrupted him with a short kiss. ‘I don't care. Nothing is normal with you and that's what I like about it the most.ʼ

Another kiss he stole from her, that was much more passionate, was the beginning of a new period in their lives. Their life, they were about to share together. His heart fluttered at this thought, it was so warming and promising. He really believed things would change from now on, because they already had extremely changed since he met her. It might not be visible to the naked eyes, but he felt different and he knew it was her who made him feel this way.

They were kissing with emotions bursting from both of them like flames from windows of a burning house. He placed his hands on the back of her shoulders and slowly turning her around, laid them on the thick woolen blanket. Feeling the heat of the body beneath him, he slipped his hands down her dress and caressed the delicate skin on her thighs. She tilted her head back, giving him a better access so he could move his kisses onto her neck.

‘David?ʼ

He let out a quiet chuckle. ‘What again?ʼ

‘Your wife—ʼ

David pulled back, lifting his upper body on elbows. ‘Ellen, have you seen _my wife _in the last month?ʼ His voice sounded sterner than planned, making her startle a little. ‘Because, if truth to be told, I haven't. And I don't want to see her until the divorce case, though I really hope that will be utterly avoidable too.ʼ

Her shocked stare made him realise he hadn't mentioned it before. All this time, she had no idea that Angie wasn't a part of his life anymore and she must've been so torn. How could have she thought that he was playing around with both of them at the same time?

_Maybe because you actually did, you moron. _

‘Please, just don't think about it, it's such a lovely evening—ʼ

‘How?ʼ she stuttered and crawled out from underneath him, then sat on the opposite corner of the blanket, with legs crossed and brows knitted.

His first instinctive reaction was to lie. He wished to just say he had kicked her out, choosing Ellen over her, but the truth was, he wasn't really sure he would've done that if she hadn't found out. It was a horrible, disgusting awareness, but even though he could lie to her, he couldn't lie himself.

A heavy sigh escaped his mouth. ‘There was a photograph in a newspaper. A heinous article, really. She saw it and I decided not to hide it anymore.ʼ

He _did _lie after all. Well, technically, he just skipped the part where he told Angela that Ellen was just a groupie. But it made him feel sick and abhorrence of himself. Flashbacks of the fight he and Angie had back then struck him so hard he felt uprising rage in his veins. He resented her for every word she had screamed into his face during that fight, and as much as he didn't want to admit it, she had hurt him like no one had before.

‘Fuck. I really have broken up your family, haven't I?ʼ she whispered blankly.

He gulped back the pinching soreness and shook his head. ‘Are you mad? That wasn't even a family, this is not what a family should look like. Me and her—God, do we really have to have this conversation now?ʼ

An insect flew near his half-empty wine glass and sat on the edge. He watched it as if it was the most immersive activity.

‘If we drop it now, we will never go back to it and I don't like it either, but we do have to talk it through eventually!ʼ

‘Ellen, please.ʼ He took her hand. It was cold and shaking. ‘But none of those matter anymore. What matters is, it's over. Really over. My marriage is over.ʼ Saying these words aloud at last brought huge relief to him, but he could feel bitter taste afterwards. ‘And it's not your fault, nor merit. Now, please. Let's go back inside, you're freezing. How come you're always so frozen, it's the middle of June!ʼ

He tried to embrace her, but she wrenched herself free and looked at him with those stubborn eyes.

‘Not unless we finish this.ʼ

‘What else do you wanna talk about?ʼ He threw his arms in the air, the whole situation irritating him more and more. ‘My wife is gone, I don't give a single fuck about her, you're the only one I care for!ʼ

‘And yet you're leaving.ʼ Her simple, yet sad statement left him tongue-tied. ‘I overheard you talking on the phone this morning.ʼ

His heart skipped a beat.

‘It's only three months,ʼ he faltered weakly.

‘It's already longer than we've known each other though.ʼ

It was already happening, and as much as he wanted to prepare for this conversation before starting it, he missed his chance. However, all speeches prepared in your head for an important talk always go down the drain with the first reply.

‘You can come with me.ʼ

He searched for a flicker of excitement in her stare, but only saw more hurt. ‘You know I can't.ʼ

‘And why is that?ʼ he scoffed. ‘I can talk to Vic, he won't mind if you take a little holiday. I can even pay him for the period of your absence. I'll cover your rent. Don't worry about the money, darling, it's really the least important matter.ʼ

She shook her head and raised her eyes upon the sky. ‘But it's not only about the work or the money!ʼ

‘Then what is it?ʼ he insisted, drilling his intensive stare right through her. He was so desperate for having her by his side and never letting her go away, he just didn't understand what the problem was. And she didn't make it any easier for him.

‘Never mind.ʼ Her lip trembled as she hesitated. Eventually, she gave up on whatever she intended to say and he just let her do it, not wanting to put any pressure on her. ‘I just can't come. And I'm afraid of losing you. What if you find someone else, in America? What if you get off the plane and some beautiful woman spills coffee on you by accident?ʼ

Although he didn't feel any less tensed, he chuckled quietly. She was _jealous. _She was simply jealous of him. He shouldn't feel glad about it, but it did give him some sort of satisfaction and certainty.

‘A beautiful woman spilling coffee on me? Are you joking? Happened to me once already, those kind of miracles don't just come up every month.ʼ Left corner of her lips raised up a little. ‘Besides, have you even heard a word of what I said before? There's no one else but you, darling. I only have eyes for you.ʼ

He lowered his forehead to hers and gazed into her blue irises. Her lids fluttered shut, tickling on his cheeks gently with the eyelashes. Soon the distance between their lips closed and he just absorbed every second of the kiss, putting as much affection as he could, to assure her that despite the tour, he wasn't _leaving_ _her. _Life without her was something he didn't even want to try imagining. It would've been awful, ghastly and so, so very fucking empty.

They lay on their back, next to each other, and fixed their stares to the uncountable amount of stars upon the dark sky. Once again, it was peaceful and soothing. And most importantly, the air between them was much clearer than before.

‘So when does the tour start?ʼ She took a puff of her cigarette.

‘August, I think.ʼ

The silence that fell before, caused his own words to buzz inside his head like an annoying fly. The thought of leaving London, knowing she would be there, was tying his stomach in knots. He couldn't do this to himself, because that would only affect her and their relationship. He had to let go for now and just make sure she knew he wasn't joking about what he said to her before.

Still with the hope of her agreeing on the trip to America, he poured them more wine and passed her the glass. When she grabbed the stem, he didn't lose his hold on it, taking the opportunity to catch her gaze.

‘Will you promise to wait for me here? To not run away?ʼ

Her lower lip was shaking so she bit it and he almost threw the glass away and flung himself at her.

Just before she spoke, her cheeks flushed as if she was about to say something incredibly embarrassing. ‘I was waiting so long for someone like you, I would be just out of my mind if I didn't wait three more months.ʼ

To David though, her words were just pure and simple, and it formed the most hopeful assurance he could have got for an answer to his question. 


	28. i could never be down

‘El, love?ʼ

‘Yes?ʼ She raised her eyes up from a book.

The day was very lazy. They had planned to eat breakfast out, but when the morning came and they realised they had talked and laughed through the whole night, the effort to get dressed and drive to the city turned out to be too big and just noneconomic. With this new plan, they crawled out of bed recultantly and dealt with this meal at home. David brew some coffee in a large pot, while Ellen prepared pancakes – which she claimed to be the only meal she could impress anyone with and not kill them by accident. Her cooking skills were rather poor, but David never really noticed that. The pancakes they had this morning tasted better than in any café he'd even been to. Which definitely couldn't be said about his coffee – they both left it almost untouched.

Having cleaned after breakfast, they just decided to rest in the living room. Ellen was sitting in a big antique chair, her long naked legs hanging over the carved wooden armrest. She borrowed a book from his large bookcase and she had drown in its plot, and in the meantime David, with a pen in his hand, was scribbling some random words, in hopes to compose a new piece of music. He had in mind the melody she had played for him the other day, and this slow and soothing morning seemed to be the perfect occasion to write down words for it. However, a sudden thought steered him away from this yet fruitless moment of inspiration.

‘There's an intimate banquet on the ocassion of releasing the album, this evening.ʼ

Ellen shifted uncomfortably in the armchair. ‘Oh, I will go back to my flat soon—ʼ

‘No, no, love. I want you with me.ʼ He glanced at her and saw an unconvinced face. ‘Of course I will never put any pressure on you with this, but it would mean a lot to me if you come.ʼ

It was important to him for two reasons. First of all, he didn't want to miss any day or night with her, especially knowing they wouldn't see each other for three months. And second of all, which was far more crucial – he was afraid of drinking himself into a stupor again. Every party he attended, equalled countless amounts of liquor and drugs. He needed her, because he didn't want to do this, he didn't want to let her down.

She bit her lip and closed the book, setting it on her lap. ‘I don't know—I don't even have any nice clothes to wear. And I have never been to such event before. Won't you be embarrassed with me?ʼ

‘Dear God, Ellen, I will be so glad to tell people you came with me!ʼ he scoffed with a smirk, already feeling her agreement at the tip of his tongue now.

‘And what about Duncan?ʼ

‘I'll ask Janet to stay with him,ʼ he replied instantly, approaching her and lifted her chin to look in her eyes. ‘We will be able to come back whenever you want to, just say a word and I will call the car up. And about the clothes, darling, you know you could wear literally anything and you'd still be the most mesmerising woman in the whole room. If you're so worried, let me just take you to the city and we'll buy you a dress.ʼ

‘Ugh, shut up, you fawner,ʼ she laughed, giving him a little nudge. ‘And there's no way you're buying me clothes.ʼ

‘Why not?ʼ

‘Because you're not the only person making money.ʼ She tried her best to sound casual, but he could sense she was nervous, so he dropped the topic and just sighed.

‘Alright, you stubborn self-made woman!ʼ

Ellen pecked on his nose and stood up from the armchair. ‘I just have to come by my flat to prepare myself before.ʼ

‘Let me drive you then? We can get another coffee, proper this time, that doesn't look like a bucket of pitch.ʼ

Her eyes flickered along with a smile on her lips. ‘I'd love that.ʼ

★

Ellen was furious with herself. Scavenging for any decent clothes in her wardrobe, every piece she pulled was only adding another pound to the stress weighing on her chest. She shouldn't have agreed to go. What a terrible idea that was! She wasn't any lady, she wasn't a celebrity, she had no idea how to act and what to say. She would only bring shame on him in front of his friends.

It was a quarter past six and David was supposed to pick her up at seven, which made her even more trembling and undecided. Her hair was a mess and the struggle with controlling the rebellious curls eventually ended up with giving up and leaving them loose, only two hairslides holding back strands on both sides of her face.

The knocking came sooner than she would've thought and she was still wearing only an underwear. She threw in a dressing gown and went to the door to open it.

‘Hello, love, how's preparation?ʼ David kissed her lips shortly, as he came in.

She let out a long desperate groan and it expressed much more than any words would have.

‘Just as I thought,ʼ he chuckled and drew on his cigarette for the last time, before putting it down in the ashtray.

Only then she saw a big flat box he carried with him and she couldn't understand how come she hadn't noticed it before.

‘Oh no, you fucking didn't—!ʼ she said in a scared voice, stepping backwards.

‘Oh yes, I fucking did.ʼ He rolled his eyes lazily and handed her the box. ‘Just take a look and try it on. If you don't like it, we can return or exchange it.ʼ

She tossed the box a little up and it landed back on her hands softly. It was wrapped in grey paper with elegant golden letters ‘DVFʼ on the top right corner. She opened it and under the delicate layer of protective paper, loomed out a navy blue material. Carefully, so it wouldn't get damaged, she pulled it out and the most beautiful dress met her eyes. It was reaching below the knee, the sleeves were short and there was one button on the neckline. The material was very airy and soft, for a moment she just wished to have pillowslips made of it, because she couldn't stop touching it. The dress was modest, blue with a dot pattern, but despite its simplicity, it seemed very elegant. She was just amazed with how well David knew her. Not only could he guess her music taste before she even developed it, but now he just hit perfectly in her clothing style. The only thing that concerned her very much, was the price of this dress. Of course, he had cut off the tag, but she could only imagine how there were way too many zeros in the price.

‘Do you like it?ʼ he whispered into her eyes, wrapping arms around her waist from behind. His quiet voice gave her chills. ‘I thought it would bring out your eyes.ʼ

‘It's—it's really beautiful. But are you insane?ʼ She shook her head and turned around to him, slowly putting the dress back in the box. ‘I can't take it.ʼ

‘If you like it, what's the problem?ʼ

‘The price tag I don't even think I wanna see, I suppose?ʼ She crossed her arms.

‘Don't be ridiculous, Ellen. It's a gift, for Christ's sake,ʼ he scoffed, leaning against the kitchen table. ‘I am allowed to give you gifts, aren't I? Now come on, try it on!ʼ

She hesitated, but eventually gave up on arguing. The dress was peeking from the opened box, so tempting that she couldn't resist taking it out of it again. Although David had seen her naked many times before, in order to put the dress on, she left for the bathroom, which made him giggle with pure amusement.

The mirror was too small to show her the full image of the dress on her, so she only fixed her hair and added a slight touch of red lipstick on her lips before stepping out of the bathroom.

She stopped a few feet from David and did a little turn, holding hems of the dress in both hands and then she settled her eyes on his, waiting for his reaction. He took a slow puff of his cigarette and put it aside. The thin plumes of smoke escaped his mouth as he approached her and grabbed her waist.

‘You're so pretty I could just eat you right here and right now,ʼ he murmured against her warm neck, a flicker of playfulness in his eyes.

Her cheeks flushed. ‘If you want me to go to that party, you must stop saying such things to me!ʼ

‘I'm not so sure if I wanna go anywhere now.ʼ A grin spread across his face, and when she dunched him, it only grew wider.

‘Alright, give me ten more minutes and I'll be ready to go!ʼ she informed, not able to hide her excitement. ‘And, David?ʼ

‘Yes, darling?ʼ

She leant in and planted a subtle kiss upon his lips, before whispering, ‘Thank you.ʼ

The delicate silver clip earrings was the only jewellery she owned, but they turned out to be a perfect match for the dress. Seeing the reflection in the mirror above the sink, she must've admitted to herself, that she didn't look that bad. With the lipstick and the slight rouge on her cheeks, she felt almost like a film star from the sixties. Maybe apart from the complete lack of tan. There was no doubts that the only person paler than her at that party would be David.

Outside her flat, there was a black car parked on the roadside. David opened the door for her and went to the other side of the vehicle to step inside too. Soon, he started the engine and they left her street. She focused her stare on the window, fingers tapping unconsciously on her knees.

‘Are you nervous?ʼ

‘Huh?ʼ She turned her face to him. ‘Ah, I don't know. Probably.ʼ

He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Don't be, please. I won't leave your side for a second. It'll be okay, you'll see. It's only a few friends.ʼ

She felt much lighter, when he smiled at her so reassuringly and warmly. Of course, the basic mistake she made was believing his words. A few friends only turned out to be around a hundred of people gathered together in a specious ballroom, which looked like its interior had been stolen from Queen Elizabeth's summer house. The first thing that caught her eye, once they entered the room, was a huge exquisite chandelier sparkling with golden light that flooded the marble floors and beige tapestries.

‘Who are all those people?ʼ she asked, looking around in terror.

‘Oh, don't worry, I'll get you through them.ʼ He spoke quiet enough so only she could hear it, at the same time bestowing a polite and cheerful smile on everyone that laid eyes on them.

He looked really happy, almost excited to introduce her to his friends, so she didn't have the heart to hold him back. His eyes were shining like an innocent child. In moments like these, the resemblance between him and his son was even more striking than ever.

‘See that lad over there, brows thicker and darker than stormy clouds?ʼ His chin subtly pointed at a man standing by the table with a glass of whisky in one hand and a cigarette in the other. ‘My producer. Tony Visconti. He's a nice guy, but he can be a real pain in the arse sometimes.ʼ

Ellen nodded, taking notes in her mind about everything he was saying.

‘Those two women by the counter,ʼ he carried on, taking two glasses with champagne off the trace that a waitress was carrying across the room. ‘Backup voices. Really great ladies, the one on the left has such a powerful voice! Now, long hair, round glasses – John Lennon. I expect you at least know the name, because the Beatles is probably the most popular band in the whole world right now. Although their highest peak is over now, probably that's why John agreed on doing a song on my album.ʼ

Of course Ellen had heard about the Beatles and the fact alone made her gasp. But when her eyes rested on a group of men standing in the corner, surrounded by enthusiastically nodding women, only then it occurred to her that all of the people were famous, worldwide famous. The members of her friend Poppy's favourite band was standing just in front of her eyes, chatting and drinking expensive whisky. Tonight, Ellen had landed on another planet and this world was a complete unknown to her. It was full of people in expensive clothes, expensive jewellery, with faces from covers of magazines and posters. After so much time spent with David, it finally occurred to her that he actually belonged to this world, the world she saw for the first time tonight.

‘Ah, the Rolling Stones. You've heard of them? Mick is my dearest friend and Keith and I, we went to one school together.ʼ

‘David!ʼ A man in dark curly hair, wearing a light blue tuxido with a pink shirt stopped them and shook David's hand. Only by saying one word he revealed his American accent. ‘Congratulations on the album! Good job we've done with that one, don't you think?ʼ

‘Thank you, Harry.ʼ He smiled. ‘Um, this is my dear friend, Ellen Dean.ʼ

Ellen's heart skipped the beat, when the man's attention was drawn on her.

‘Ellen, meet Harry Maslin, the second producer and recording engineer of the album.ʼ

‘Very nice to meet you, Ellen.ʼ He kissed the top of her hand. ‘If you excuse me now, I need to find my wife in this crowd. Great album, just great, I have a really good feeling about it—!ʼ

When he disappeared, Ellen put her lips to the edge of her glass and took a small sip of the champagne. It wasn't very long until another person approached them with their congratulations and a short small talk. Ellen didn't speak much, she was intimidated with all those people. Most of the time, she would just smile in a polite way and answer some questions. It wasn't a bad experience, she surely couldn't say she had a bad time at the party. She just felt really out of place. And every time it started to oppressing her, it just took one short glance at David to be sure she didn't want to be anywhere else.

‘This is so overwhelming,ʼ she faltered, holding his arm as they were walking through the room.

‘Darling.ʼ He stopped and turned to her with sincere eyes. ‘If you wanna leave, we can leave any minute. Just say a word and we will jump in the car and go somewhere quiet. I care for nothing but your comfort.ʼ

‘It's alright. We can stay, I'm sorry.ʼ She planted a soft kiss on his cheek, realising – a little too late though – that he might not want to show such intimacy in public. She pulled back, but he held her hand to his chest.

He cared about her in the way no one ever had. That was the reason of her decision to stay, the reason she had agreed on coming with him in the first place. She knew he wouldn't left her side, and if it was important for him that they attended this party together, she could do the same for him.

The banquet carried on and with the third glass of wine in her hand, the feeling of timidity was slowly fading away. She felt more confident and finally found people she could do a little chat with. The two backup singers, Alyssa and Merry, were really nice to her and they had a quite long conversation about romantic piano etudes and the work of Pyotr Tchaikovsky. David was participating in the discussion as well, joining in from time to time, despite much poorer knowledge of classical musicians, until Mick Jagger came up to them.

‘Mind if I steal this gentleman for a moment?ʼ he slurred airily, throwing his arm around David and almost spilling his drink with that.

David gave her a hesitant look, but she just smiled. Encouraged with that, he touched her hand, kissing her on the cheek, and said, ‘I'll be right back.ʼ

With those words, he went away accompanied by Mick and she stayed with the two women. She didn't mind though, chatting with them was really pleasant. The younger, Alyssa, was actually her age and she started as a piano tutor. She had been noticed by Tony and _Young Americans _was the first album she took part in. It was all very exciting and very new to her, but she seemed to be satisfied with her new job. Merry was wife of an American jazz musician and she knew the Rolling Stones because she had been a backup singer in one of their earlier song.

‘It was few weeks before my wedding day, can you believe it? I almost left Curt at the altar and ran away with Keith fucking Richards! That was only five years ago and yet I was such a naive little idiot back then,ʼ she giggled and shook her head, her afro hair jumping like little springs.

Ellen laughed and nervously looked around the room. It had been a while since David walked away with Mick and she started to feel a little worried.

Merry noticed it and waved her hand lightly. ‘Oh, he'll be back soon, they probably just went to get some.ʼ

‘Some of what?ʼ Ellen asked, furrowing her brows and both women chuckled. She let out a sigh and excused them, before turning around to find David.

Her eyes were searching for him in every corner of the room, while she was walking slowly, sipping on her wine, like nothing happened. She prayed that no one would attempt to open her, because the longer she kept looking for David, the more nervous she was becoming. Between the fireplace and three laughing people by the tall window, there was a hall leading to a staircase. At the end of the hall she stopped and leant out to see what was upstairs.

‘David?ʼ she shouted but her voice must've got lost in the loud jazz music coming from the ballroom.

She laid her foot on the first step and repeated the call. The song was over and before the next one started, she managed to hear male laughters coming from upstairs. One of them, very familiar, made her heart instantly flutter. The voices became louder once the door they were behind opened. A sudden rattling sound of a metal item falling from the stairs startled her, and she hid behind the banister.

‘Shit, my spoon!ʼ That was David.

‘Fuck the spoon, you swell! Can't you do things like a man just for once? Your new toy must be so disappointed!ʼ

They reached the bottom of the stairs and she had nowhere to hide from them. Her hands were shaking, because even though she didn't want to accept this thought, she knew just perfectly what had they been doing upstairs.

‘Ellen, my darling!ʼ David spread out his arms, a wide grin stretching his lips. His face was glowing and his eyes sparkling, but it only made her feel sick.

The blood in her veins was rushing so furiously fast and loud, she barely heard anything else. With every step towards her he took, she eased a little back. She wanted to yell at him, throw herself at him and punch his chest and face as hard as she could. But she struggled with moving her feet, let alone speaking up.

‘Hello, dollface!ʼ one of the men called to her and she didn't even spared him a look.

David knitted his eyebrows. ‘What's wrong?ʼ

He already knew what was wrong. He was only pretending stupid, but she saw the sudden wave of fear flashing across his face. Feeling tears springing into her eyes, she just drooped her head and shook it. Then she turned around and walked away, without looking behind. Each call and shout from him was ripping off one piece of her soul.

‘Ellen, please, wait!ʼ he begged, when she left the building.

The cold night air caused her to shiver, but she was shaking from the emotions anyway so it didn't make any difference. Regaining enough strength, she stopped and turned to him. He was standing on concrete stairs leading to the front door, his forehead shining with sweat, top button of his shirt undone.

‘Leave me, David.ʼ Her voice was stern, but pathetically weak at the same time. ‘I don't—I don't wanna have anything to do with you.ʼ

‘What's your problem?!ʼ he hissed and caught her up in a few quick steps. ‘Why are you causing such scenes?ʼ

Those words were like a sharp knife slitting the skin on her stomach. She almost collapsed on the ground, the look on his face twining with the traumatic picture of him lying on the stairs unconscious.

‘You fucking arsehole!ʼ She pushed him away. ‘Why exactly did you want me to come? I reckon you're having enough fun without me!ʼ

‘Would you shut up, please?!ʼ He raised his eyebrows, surprised with his own roughness. ‘I'm sorry, love. Please, don't go, I am so sorry—ʼ

Once again, she felt like in his house, the night she found him passed out on the floor. She felt like they were in the hall, arguing and shouting, even his eyes now were the exact same dark colour. Only then, she really wanted to help him and right now, she was just feeling really hurt and cheated on.

‘Have you ever stopped, for one day?ʼ she faltered, interrupting his stupid blithering.

‘What?ʼ

‘Did you stop using just for one day since you almost died in your own bloody house, with your son in the other room?ʼ

His gaze dropped and she didn't need any more explicit answer. She almost felt bad for throwing so much guilt at him the day of his album premier. However, he was the one acting irresponsible. And she was just so mad at him. And so fucking helpless.

‘You haven't even tried,ʼ she spat out, her bones freezing out from her own cold words. He came closer and tried to lay his hands on her shoulder, but she dodged back. ‘Don't touch me. Just go back inside.ʼ

‘Let's just talk, Ellen, we can't leave like this!ʼ Frustration was growing in his eyes and it frightened her.

‘I really don't wanna talk with you now. Not when you're in this state.ʼ

After that, she turned around and started walking ahead, allowing the tears to finally stream freely down her face. Her breath was stuck in her swollen throat and she had to fight to provide air to her lungs, otherwise she would've just fainted.

She knew she was doing a foolish thing, he shouldn't have been left by himself now. The moment she turned her back on him, she wanted to go back and hug him as tight as she could, talk everything through, stay with him, _help him. _But it hurt. The fact he had made a promise to be with her that evening, keep her company at a party she knew literally nobody, and he just disappeared with some people to snort, hurt her more than a broken leg.

Although the fact he was still using didn't surprised her much, she felt disappointment pitting her guts like corrosive acid.


	29. got to keep searching

_**i haven't proofed it but im too tired.**_  


Her slow footsteps were making quiet soft sound against the pavement. She carried her heels in one hand, the other holding a cigarette. She was crying and shaking, and not even sure if she was going in the right direction. Earlier, when David had driven them to the spot, she didn't pay much attention to the route, so now she didn't know where to go. She was lost in the big city she barely knew, trembling and full of conflicting emotions. Despite all the things she said, she really hoped David would follow her. She was mad at him, but deep inside she knew he just needed help. It doesn't take one day to quit a bad habit, and it surely doesn't take one day to come off drugs. Being aware of this was one thing, however her personal feelings towards this case was another.

She was so tired with all the fights they had. It never meant to be easy, being with him, but hope was a terrible thing.

The streets were emptier than during the day, even though there were many people coming back from pubs. Thick dark clouds upon the sky weighed her on, any second it could start raining and she didn't even know where she was. A neon sign above a shop she passed said it was nearly four in the morning, which meant she was wandering around London for almost an hour now. Her feet hurt and she dreamt of nothing but a warm bed and oblivious sleep.

Every car that passed her by gave her some kind of fear, that they would stop and start talking to her. The area was full of suspicious types and she reckoned she must be in Brixton, yet she didn't recognise any of the buildings. Even if she wanted to go back to David now, she had no idea which way to go. It almost made her laugh with bitterness, when she thought that she would probably have to keep wandering around until the dawn, just like on her first night in London.

The throbbing engine sound behind her was getting louder as another car was moving closer, but this time it slowed down. She quickened her step to escape it, until the driver lowered the window down.

‘Ellen!ʼ

She would recognise that voice everywhere and it brought into her head a mix of anger and happiness. She stopped by the black jaguar and saw red hair and a white troubled face.

‘Jesus Christ, you're here—I've been looking for you all over the city.ʼ He sounded worried but relieved. He had been looking for her. He didn't go back to the party. It warmed her heart a little, although the warmth was illusive and it didn't reach her numb feet and cold arms. ‘Get in the car, I'll drive you home.ʼ

Her hesitance only lasted a few seconds, but the thought of finally coming back home won with the unwise stubbornness. Soon she found herself in the passenger seat. She embraced her arms to warm them a little and David drove off. She didn't look at him, her eyes fixed blankly on some unspecified point on the windscreen. They were driving in silence and she was still shivering. She could sense his strain just in the way he changed gear – aggressively and dynamically, causing the engine to sputter from time to time. First raindrops fell on the front window quickly and lightly, and only a few moments later the drizzle turned into a heavy deluge.

‘Are you alright?ʼ he finally asked, turning the wipers on.

She nodded, but realising he was actually focused on the road, she spoke up in a raspy voice, ‘Y-yes.ʼ

After that, silence fell once again. A stream of thoughts hit her from all sides. She wondered whether he was driving high or he had managed to sober up. It filled her with dread what would happen when they reached her street. The silence was uncomfortable but easier than talking. All the emotions gathering inside her made her feel sick. She cracked the window opened and lit a cigarette. Nice smell of the rain hit her nose. It made her feel better physically, but the burden in her head didn't want to disappear at all. However, she couldn't deny it, she felt happy he was here with her.

‘Stop the car,ʼ she muttered, after throwing the cigarette butt out of the window.

He frowned, surprised. ‘What? Now?ʼ

When they were driving over the Blackfriars Bridge, she understood how far from home she must've been.

‘Right now.ʼ

At her insistence, David hit the brakes and the vehicle screeched to stop. A taxi driving behind honked at them with irritation and overtook them. David's jaguar pulled over right where they were, halfway the bridge. Ellen undid her seat belt and turn her whole body just to hug David in the driver seat. It caught him off guard; he probably expected her to run away from the car or something. But she couldn't stand the tension between them anymore. She wasn't strong enough to carry on with this fight. Although, she preferred to think it was the other way around. It actually required the strength to stop fighting with him over something that was a struggle to both of them. In this case, it was his addiction. After all, they were on the same side.

‘I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry you had to search for me in the middle of the night,ʼ she murmured against his shirt. ‘I just—I got scared. And I felt so helpless. I wanna help you, I really do. I just don't know how. I wanna be with you and help you through this all shit. I care about you and I need you.ʼ

He stroked her hair, brushing it with his fingers. Outside the car it got quiet, which meant the rain stopped. The wipers blades were still squeaking repetitively against the windscreen, until David turned them off.

‘Jesus, Ellen, you have nothing to be sorry about. It's all my fault. I am weak and pathetic,ʼ he admitted and placed a soft kiss on top of her head, burying his nose in her hair. ‘And after you walked away, I was so afraid—I went to your flat, but you weren't there, so I was driving around and—I just couldn't let you go tonight.ʼ

She lifted her head up until their eyes met. His were full of emotions – mostly regrets – and desperate promises of change. The healthy pupil was, however, still unnaturally dilated and she knew she couldn't trust much on his words right now. He was still high and it was tearing her heart apart.

‘We will get through this together, okay?ʼ Her fingertips touched his cold cheek and she barely held back tears. ‘You and me. I'll help you get clean. I just need you to cooperate a little—ʼ

His chin nodded on her head as she hid the face in the crook of his neck again and he embraced her shoulders with one arm. His other hand rested on the wheel and protected her back from hitting against it, while she was sitting on his lap.

She found peace and comfort in his arms. Even though the problem concerned directly him and his bad addiction, he was the only person she could count on for consolation. He wanted to believe in a better tomorrow and she wanted to believe in him. It would just take time for things to straighten up.

Three sudden knocks on the window caused her to jump and when her back bumped against David's hand, the car horn was blown with a scary noise. She crawled off him and sat in her seat. David winded the window down.

‘Is everything alright, sir?ʼ A tall man in a black uniform lowered his head to peek inside through the window. ‘Do you happen to have any troubles starting your car?ʼ

‘Ah, no, no. Everything's fine!ʼ

‘May I ask you then why on earth are you blocking the traffic in the middle of a bridge?ʼ The policeman furrowed his thin grey eyebrows.

Ellen minced her whole body deeper in her seat as if she tried to sink back into it. Her lips were stretching in a silly grin.

‘I sincerely apologise.ʼ David said. ‘We were just about to drive off.ʼ

The man humphed. ‘Can I see your driving license first?ʼ

David reached to the glove compartment under the dashboard by the front passenger seat. When the storage opened, Ellen noticed a small metal box inside and her breath stuck in her throat because of a gulp rising inside. Suddenly everything inside her broke, like a vase fallen from a cupboard. David pulled out a leather wallet and handed the policeman a plastic card.

After examining the document, the policeman finally spoke. ‘Mr Jones.ʼ He gave David back his driving license and pointed his hand to the end of the bridge in front of them. ‘There's a parking by the road, just when you drive off the bridge. Please, just go there if you need a stop.ʼ

‘Of course. Thank you, officer.ʼ

‘Drive safe. Have a good night.ʼ

The policeman went back to his car, and David closed the window. Turning the key in the ignition, he started the engine and drove to the parking. When they stopped, Ellen opened the storage to take the metal box and jumped out of the vehicle.

‘What are you doing?ʼ David called for her and quickly left the car too.

She ran back onto the bridge and stopped by the rail. Her hand was shaking on the metal box.

‘Are you fucking insane?ʼ she hissed at him, holding the item up to show him.

‘Give it back, Ellen, this is not funny.ʼ He carefully came a few steps closer.

‘I am fully aware this isn't funny. Are you?ʼ She glared at him. His face was even paler than usual and his eyes painted with hecticness. ‘Carrying around this fucking shit? What if the police searched you?ʼ

‘Give it back to me!ʼ The echo of his voice carried across the river.

It was dark, only a few street lamps were reflecting their light on the surface of Thames. The sky was covered in dark orange, and the streets were almost completely empty. She was furious and terrified and without having second thoughts, she turned around and threw the box in the water.

‘No.ʼ

Soon they only heard a faint splash down below.

David sighed and leant against the railing next to her. He didn't say a word and neither did she. There were cars passing by them from time to time, splattering fresh puddles.

For some unspecified reason, she started sobbing again. David put his arm around her and pulled her closer. A cigarette between his lips hissed every time he took a drag.

‘Let's go home, alright?ʼ he suggested in a soothing voice, caressing her arm.

‘Yeah, let's go.ʼ She pushed herself from the railing and turned to the car.

By home it was meant, of course, his house. She hadn't caught the moment when she started calling Haddon Hall ‘homeʼ. There weren't even many of her things, most of her clothes and other belongings were left at her place, where she hadn't spent much time lately. Sometimes even during weekdays, she would stay overnight at David's and in the morning he would drive her to work, just to come pick her up later at seven. She didn't feel like she belonged between beautiful antique furniture and Japanese garden, but what she knew for sure was that she belonged to him.

The clock struck six in the morning when they entered the huge hall with the staircase. She couldn't stifle a yawn, and David hugged her with one arm, leading them upstairs.

‘You must be exhausted, darling.ʼ He kissed fondly on her forehead. ‘Luckily, it's Sunday and we can stay in bed for as long as we want.ʼ

‘There's really nothing I wish for more,ʼ she muttered with a faint smile.

★

Before they went to bed, and once they did and they were cuddling and kissing in it, everything seemed to be alright. She was just happy, pushing aside all the thoughts of earlier events. But when she woke up and the sun was shining intensively through blue curtains, the seriousness of the problem stroked her again with double force. Having lifted her eyelids, the first thing she saw was David's face. He wasn't asleep anymore. He was gazing at her with those wonderful eyes, which looked even more mesmerising in close-up.

‘Good morning, darling,ʼ he whispered and she saw a sparkle in his eyes.

A blissful smile forced its way onto her face. ‘Morning.ʼ

‘You must know, I was planning to get up earlier, make breakfast and coffee, but I couldn't take my eyes off you since I opened them,ʼ he explained, although he didn't seem to be sorry at all. ‘Hope it doesn't make me a creepy stalker?ʼ

She laughed melodiously and cuddled into his bare chest. Then, a sudden sadness weighed her down. The events of last night had happened for real, and she couldn't pretend it was otherwise. Her tired sigh was muffled by his warm skin.

David didn't dare to ask what was wrong. Perhaps he managed to figure that much out, after all it wasn't that hard to guess. He just stroked her hair in slow and gentle moves as if he was trying to assure her that things would get better. For some reason, it wasn't easy to believe that anymore. Maybe eventually they were going to have their happily ever after, but there was a long and full of obstacles road ahead of them, until they reach that point.

‘Don't think about it,ʼ he muttered, reading her mind. ‘It shouldn't concern you really.ʼ

‘But it does.ʼ She lifted her stubborn worried stare to him. ‘What should I do, David?ʼ

‘Just—ʼ His voice was weak; he tried to keep it all together, but it just didn't go very well. All his efforts to remain calm were pointless. Although it was really up to him, whether he would get clean or not, he looked even more helpless than she was in this tough situation. ‘Just don't leave.ʼ

She nodded and nestled against him, giving in his subtle reassuring touch.

★

The next day she went back to her flat. She did that reluctantly, because a bed without him wasn't so cosy anymore and she didn't feel good sleeping alone. It was strange and empty. However, David's business call that flew him off to Liverpool and the supply in the music shop early in the morning left her no other choice.

Just before going to bed, she received a phone call from her brother. She had spoken with him only once since he and Jack left London and he had already dealt with the unusual situation which took place on Saturday. The fact that his sister was dating a famous celebrity was slowly turning into a fact that she was simply dating a really decent man. It would still take Ryan some time to recover from that sudden dose of shock, but he was on the right track for that.

However, that wasn't the reason of his call. Their mother had seen the doctor for a follow-up visit and apparently she wasn't any better. Ellen knew that kind of medical condition carried irreversible effects and her mother would never go back to the state she had been before the stroke. She asked a lot about Ellen. She kept wondering where her daughter was, what she was doing and when she would visit. Ellen kept promising herself she would never go back to Britford, yet she kept breaking those promises.

That phone call wouldn't get out of her mind for the whole next day. The fear of going back paralised her once again. She had been lucky the last time, but what if she wouldn't be able to escape from meeting her father now? It was terrifying for her to just think about him. All those nasty memories were nibbling on her brain, causing stinging pain on both sides of her head. The anxiety, the pounding headache, the racing heart – it all led her to one decision.

She would go, but she couldn't do this alone.

‘Can I ask you something?ʼ she mumbled to David, when they were taking a little walk in a park, as usual after her work.

He took his cigarette out of his lips and breathed out lazy smoke. ‘What is it?ʼ

The evening was warm and nice, but she couldn't enjoy it at all. The only thing keeping her sane was his presence. He had come back from Liverpool two hours ago, just in time to pick her up from work, which she hadn't even dared to expect from him, but he did that anyway. There was something heartwarming in the way he would always find time to meet her, even for a few minutes. He looked clearly tired, and just from one short glance she could tell that he hadn't got enough sleep at night. At first, it made her doubt the necessity of asking what she was going to ask. But when they sat down on a bench hidden in a shadow of a big willow tree, David gave her the look that showed nothing but concern and she knew if she backed out now, his worry would only increase.

‘I want you to—I mean, if you have time—but I would like to visit my mother,ʼ she stuttered out, feeling her heart banging loudly in the ribcage.

‘Of course, love. Do you want me to drive you there?ʼ

‘I want you to come with me.ʼ She got the courage up and raised her eyes until they met his.

‘Oh.ʼ Her unexpected offer floored him, but then his face beamed. ‘I'd love to.ʼ

‘You don't know what you're saying,ʼ she scoffed gloomily.

‘Then tell me, darling,ʼ he spoke softly, holding her hand.

She took a deep breath, dictated by the long and slow moves of his fingers rubbing the top of her hand. Up. Breathe in. And down. Breathe out.

‘I—She's—ʼ It was hard to choke the words out. She couldn't tell him everything, not yet. It was supposed to be a nice walk, not a therapy meeting. She cleared her throat and started again, giving only as much information as needed and hoping he would understand. ‘My mother isn't very well. And I'm scared to go there alone. Would you do that for me? I-i mean, would you come? Please.ʼ

It was one of the very few times she ever spoke of her family. He had just met her brother and now she was asking him to go with her to her family town. He had a perfect right to decline it and she couldn't resent him for that. After all, he knew nothing of her family issues. She had never told him. Throwing him in at the deep end was probably too much and she immediately felt stupid for even asking.

‘I'm sorry, I don't wanna bother you.ʼ She shook her head, loose strands of her hair falling into her eyes. ‘It's unimportant really. Just forget it.ʼ

‘Shut your mouth and just listen to the nonsense you just said,ʼ he snapped harshly, fixing his intense stare to her frightened face. ‘Anything you tell me _is _bloody important. Because you're important, can't you see it?ʼ

‘Thank you,ʼ she whispered, lowering her head to hide the awfully irritating blushes.

He lifted her chin and kissed her lips. His were, as always, cold but soft and subtle. ‘Whatever it is, we'll get through it together. I wanna help you just as much as you help me, love.ʼ

Ellen's heart fluttered. It didn't feel natural to her, she was used to being rather ignored and scorned. On the other hand, it did feel just right. In his protective arms she felt secure, with his lips on hers she felt loved and with his comforting words she felt cared-for.

Sometimes it was really just hard to believe how lucky she was.


	30. and searching, and oh

Ellen took a day off from work on Saturday, telling Mr Furlong that she needed to visit her mother. Of course her boss didn't even want to hear her explanations; he let her go without hesitance, adding that family should always come first. Ellen still wondered if he kept saying so because of lack of good relationship with his own sons, whom she hadn't ever seen despite working at the shop for three months now. He and Mrs Joyce always spoke so nicely of their offsprings and it felt a little sad, no interest of the children in their parents life. Noticing all of this, Ellen couldn't stop thinking that she never wanted to be that kind of child, therefore with a heavy heart and lots of fear and guilt, she had no other choice but to come to Britford.

David didn't leave her alone since the day she had asked him to accompany her in that trip to her home town. Despite her reluctance to tell him what was going on, he decided to stick with her with patience only he showed her. She had been at work only twice and during those workdays, David was pottering around the shop, trying out new guitars and playing some songs on the piano. It was really nice to have him around, and the dull hours of monotonous work were passing much faster.

‘Oh, alright, I have another one!ʼ David exclaimed with excitement, turning around on the piano stool. His fingers started playing a light melody. ‘You recognise it?ʼ

She stopped sorting vinyl and leant her body against the shelf. Her brows knitted as she focused on a familiar-sounding song. The shop was empty and no one had come since it opened, which was good because if any fan appeared in the shop, they would completely freak out seeing their favourite artist sitting there casually and playing the piano.

‘Debussy, Arabesque,ʼ she said proudly, snapping her fingers. ‘You'll have to find something more difficult to catch me out. Now my turn!ʼ

He scoffed, but stepped aside to let her sit and play something. She brushed the keys, trying to remember where to start. Only a few notes left from her fingers, when David burst in laughter.

‘Could you please stop playing my own songs? It's embarrassing!ʼ He grabbed her wrists and put them up, dragging her hand away from the keyboard.

‘Why?ʼ she giggled playfully, looking up to catch his stare. ‘I like it!ʼ

He was standing over her now, holding her hands up, his lips twisting in a smile he tried to hide. She threw arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

When their eyes were on the same level, he murmured, ‘Because your renditions always sound so incredible I'm getting jealous.ʼ

While the last word was leaving his mouth, his lips brushed hers and electric sparkles pierced her through. Kneeling beside her, he glided hands down to her waist and clasped her.

‘But no one else could've written it. Personally I think it's a quite brilliant piece,ʼ she admitted. ‘Anyway, you still haven't said the name and if you don't say the name, it doesn't count as winning. Don't give me that look, you've invented this rule!ʼ

David rolled his eyes. ‘Lady Grinning Soul.ʼ

‘So it's four to three,ʼ she smirked. ‘And I'm still winning.ʼ

On days like these she felt very much alive and sincerely happy. It helped her to forget all the troubles and she really needed it sometimes, just to catch a breath. It might not seem like a big deal, but to her it all meant a lot.

★

Before the trip to Britford, they spent the night together in Haddon Hall again. There was a wooden open shed in the backyard and ever since the weather got warmer, they would sit there in the evenings and stare at the sky through a glass roof, drinking wine and talking about everything, as some sort of a shared tradition between them. And later, they went back to the house and fell asleep on the couch, Ellen being so tipsy she refused to go upstairs and lie down in a bed. He didn't mind that at all. In fact, he could be sleeping on a rick of pine cones, just as long as she was comfortable and next to him.

The next morning it was quite chilly, given it was the middle of summer, and when they went out for a smoke, Ellen had to wrap herself in a blanket. It was a thick woolen blanket he brought from Switzerland a few years ago and it made her look like a shepherd girl watching over a small flock of sheep. Except, underneath the blanket she only wore soft pink laced underwear and he had to contain himself to not rip it off her, when her naked hip emerged from between two edges of the blanket as she was sitting on a porch swing, a smouldering cigarette held in her silken fingers.

Watching the sun slowly climbing up above the horizon, every another inch higher on the sky was putting them closer to the moment they had to leave for Britford. David didn't confess to Ellen that he actually had plans for the weekend – he was supposed to meet his tour manager and had a scheduled interview for Rolling Stone magazine. However, all of his plans were dropping down from the rank of priorities when she needed him, and he had a feeling that she really did need him. He was still waiting for her to tell him more about the situation going on with her family, but he didn't want to put any pressure on her. It wouldn't make that any easier. All he could do was remain patient and be there for her.

At nine o'clock they got inside the car and drove off. Ellen wasn't very talkative, in fact she barely said anything if not asked. The nervousness was radiating from her like a light bulb hidden in a pillowcase and during the two hours long road she smoked almost a whole pack of cigarettes. Which caused them to make a stop at a petrol station just before driving into Salisbury.

David used this opportunity to fuel his car and when they left the counter and walked outside, she reached for another cigarette.

‘Darling, it's alright.ʼ He took the cigarette out of her hand and squeezed her arm gently. ‘I know you don't wanna talk about it yet, but I'm here with you. Whatever this is, you don't have to beat yourself up.ʼ

She didn't say anything, only a deep sigh escaped her mouth before they returned to the car.

‘I'm sorry if my brother acts a little weird, he's still not quite comfortable with this.ʼ She waved her hands, indicating the space between them, just after the car drove by the sign saying they were leaving Salisbury.

David chuckled. ‘I can't blame him. He's only worried about his sister. I'd feel the same way if some creepy redhead chaotic lad was dating my sister.ʼ

‘You don't have a sister,ʼ she noticed, raising one eyebrow. ‘Do you?ʼ

‘No. But if I did.ʼ

Starting a subject about siblings, he brought on questions in her. None of them spoke much of their families, it was some kind of unstated taboo subject between them. Only once in a while some of them couldn't resist asking and broke the taboo.

‘Any brothers then?ʼ

David focused his stare on the road. They were passing a street with a sequence of identical white houses, which reminded him a lot of America. Their colour was almost blinding in the intense sunlight, so he had to squint his eyes. There was a single isolated thought, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he really should've taken sunglasses.

‘A brother,ʼ he finally said, quietly. ‘Half-brother, to be specific. Terry.ʼ

‘You've never told me about him.ʼ She got immediately pulled on by this. ‘Will I get to meet him someday?ʼ

‘Oh, darling.ʼ He reached for a cigarette and lit it with his zippo, still holding one hand on the wheel. ‘I don't think you will.ʼ

‘Why not?ʼ Her voice sounded offended but he couldn't take a look at her now because the road demanded his full attention.

At first, David wasn't sure if he should tell her the truth. It wasn't the best moment to say it anyway. However, there just wasn't a good moment to say such thing, therefore he decided to finally spill it out. Besides, this wasn't something one could simply hide forever and he didn't know when a next occasion would come up. He just really hoped she wouldn't want to go in much details, because that was definitely not something he was ready for.

‘He's in a psychiatric ward.ʼ

In the corner of his eye he noticed her shifting uncomfortably in her seat. ‘Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know.ʼ

‘Of course you didn't know.ʼ He let out a short wry laugh. ‘Barely anyone does really.ʼ

‘What ha—ʼ She contained herself and grunted. ‘Er, you wanna talk about it?ʼ

‘Not really, if you don't mind.ʼ David cast an apologising smile at her and she just smiled back. ‘Could you lead the way from now, please? I can't rely on my intuition any further.ʼ

‘Oh, sure.ʼ She pointed a finger ahead of them. ‘Turn left now and go towards that big oak over there.ʼ

The directions drove them to a nice brick house with purple flowers hanging from the windowsills. There was an old beige vauxhall victor on the driveway, so Ellen told him to block it and park behind it.

Before they left the car, Ellen straightened up in her seat and let out a loud sigh.

‘Darling, it's gonna be alright,ʼ he reassured, placing a hand on her knee. ‘You're safe with me.ʼ

‘I know. Thank you.ʼ She smiled weakly.

The house was small but really cosy and lovely. There was this sweet atmosphere inside, a family atmosphere, which his own house had always lacked when he was a child. Ellen's brother and his wife welcomed them warmly, and thankfully they both treated him in a normal way. He must've admitted it felt nice. No one treated him like a human being anymore. And right now, with Ellen's problems, he just wanted to be there and give her the support she needed.

Lucy, Ryan's wife, who seemed to be a really kind woman, treated them with some homemade blueberry pie and coffee and despite not being much of a sweets fan, David couldn't say no to another slice. It did feel a little uneasy for him to be there, with Ellen's family, because despite being a confident person on daily basis, he felt genuinely nervous and wanted to make a good impression. Especially when it came to finally meeting one of her parents.

‘So where's mother?ʼ Ellen asked over coffee, as they all were sitting on the white wooden stoop at the back of the house. ‘Is she here?ʼ

‘She's in our bedroom,ʼ Lucy told her. ‘She's actually staying here for now, me and Ryan sleeping over a couch.ʼ

‘So he really got rid of a problem, didn't he?ʼ she scoffed with a frown upon her face, dropping her gaze on a porcelain cup of coffee on a small plate.

David really wished he knew anything more, but he could only rely on his own assumptions. And they seemed to be quite horrible. He took Ellen's hand and squeezed it under the table.

‘He's just out of town for the weekend.ʼ Ryan's voice was a little shaky with anger, but he managed to keep his composure.

‘I'm gonna go and say hello.ʼ Ellen stood up and David did the same.

‘I'll go with you,ʼ he proposed quietly, which she just nodded to.

He held her hand the whole time they were walking towards a brown door at the end of the hall. When she was about to push the handle, she stopped and he gave her all the time she needed.

Inside the room, there was a big bed with lots of colourful cushions. Walls were covered with light pink tapestry and above the bed there were a few framed family photographs. The room wasn't very spacious but for this reason it didn't feel so empty, like his own house did.

A woman in a wheelchair was sitting by the window. She didn't move and David wondered if she was asleep. Ellen took a few steps forward.

‘Hi, mum.ʼ

The woman's hand twitched on the arm of the wheelchair. David stayed behind, not wanting to intrude into their encounter. Ellen and her mother hugged and he couldn't help but notice how weak and skinny the woman was. When they pulled back, Ellen's eyes were filled with tears, however she didn't cry.

‘Mum, I want you to meet someone.ʼ With these words, she glanced sheepishly at David and he came closer.

He got a chance to take a better look at her and he felt heartsick. One side of her body was paralysed, causing the muscles on her face still. Her cheeks were hollow, the grey skin looked tired and her blue eyes, which Ellen must've got from her, were dull and devoid of faintest glow. She raised the stare on him and he smiled politely.

‘This is my, er, my dear friendʼ—Ellen rolled her eyes with a snigger—‘David Jones. David, this is my mum.ʼ

‘It's a real pleasure to meet you, Mrs Dean.ʼ David bowed and cupped her frail hand.

Ellen's mother struggled to speak up, her breath being heavy and her chest too weak to raise with every time air filled in her lungs. She shifted her gaze to Ellen and winked at her.

‘Quite a charmer,ʼ she stuttered faintly, a short giggle instantly making her cough. ‘Just call me Martha, dear.ʼ

David felt bad for the whole situation. Most of all, he felt guilty. He demanded all of Ellen's attention for his own problems, when she struggled with such terrible family issues. Of all the things, he should've known the best how it feels when someone close to you gets sick. His problems were only caused by the fucked-up things he kept doing. It occurred to him how selfish and awful friend he had been, even though he really wanted the best for her.

The feeling of guilt was about to intensify later, and even turn into anger.

‘How are you feeling, mum?ʼ Ellen asked, sitting beside her.

David felt a little out of place, as if he was invading on their personal space, but after all Ellen wanted him here, so he stood behind her and put hands on her shoulders to keep comforting her.

‘I'm half a vegetable. Like a tomato.ʼ She scoffed and looked at David. ‘Do you know tomato is a fruit, David? And everyone thinks of it as a vegetable. That's how I feel now.ʼ

A smile tugged at David's lips. Despite her state, she was full of bounce and confidence. He could only imagine what a hell of a woman she used to be before. ‘Personally I think you shouldn't let anyone tell you how you feel.ʼ

He drew a cigarette from his pack and Mrs Dean grunted significantly. Seeing this, Ellen laughed.

‘You know the doctor has forbidden you to smoke, do you?ʼ Ellen warned her, but she just waved her functional hand.

‘To hell with that!ʼ

‘Of course.ʼ Ellen rolled her eyes and treated her mother with a cigarette.

Soon the room filled with smoke of three cigarettes, so Ellen cracked the window open to prevent it from getting stuffy. A new-looking grey carpet was covering the whole floor and on the windowsill there was a glass full of cigarette ends drown in water.

‘I'll get an ashtray,ʼ Ellen communicated and handed him her cigarette. ‘I'll be right back.ʼ

As soon as he was left alone with Martha Dean, she let out plumes of smoke and having gathered some strength, she asked, ‘Are you good to my daughter?ʼ

‘I really hope so.ʼ

‘Good. She deserves it.ʼ She sounded cold and reserved, but then something in her eyes changed and for a short moment there was a flash of regret. ‘I never was.ʼ

‘It's never too late to change,ʼ he noticed and took a drag of his cigarette.

A bitter chuckle escaped her mouth. ‘Oh, dear. You have a pure heart, don't you?ʼ

‘I just like to believe that we're not destined to remain the same our whole lives.ʼ

Both of them were staring at the window. Jack was running around the garden with a stick used as a sword, attacking his mother, who tried to defend herself with an umbrella. They were laughing and cheering, having their family time together. The weather was nice, sunshine warming up the colour of the grass, creating such a dreamy view. Suddenly the idyllic image was spoilt by disturbing shouts.

‘Where is she?ʼ An angry male voice came to them from the depths of the house.

David's head turned towards the half shut door.

‘Get the fuck out of my house!ʼ another voice called. It belonged to Ryan.

Heavy steps were getting louder and louder, along with the shouting.

‘Not until I talk to that little—ʼ

Fearing the worst, David threw his cigarette in an almost full glass and flounced out of the room.

Ellen was standing in the hallway and she was frozen, her frightened eyes fixed on a tall older man on the other side of the hall.

‘D-dad?ʼ she mumbled in a squeaky voice.

Her back hit the wall behind her and she had no place to run. David was standing behind the man and Ryan, completely shocked and unsure what should he do.

‘You bloody little cunt, where the hell have you been?!ʼ the man hissed, moving closer to Ellen.

‘Get out of here or I'm calling the police!ʼ Ryan warned him, grabbing on his arm tightly, but he just wrenched himself free.

‘Please, l-leave me alone—ʼ

Ellen was trembling and cringing in terror, and it broke David's heart to see her this way. He had never seen her so terrified of one person. Just before the man could even touch her, David lost control and rushed to stop him. With Ryan's help, they dragged him away from Ellen and threw him aside, both of them standing between Ellen and her father now.

Ryan was so furious he look like he could punch his own father any second. And despite not being much of a fighter, David was ready to help him with that.

‘Don't hide behind others, you've been doing that your whole life!ʼ The man pointed a finger at her, his face red with rage.

David spotted Lucy and Jack entering the house, but seeing the situation, Lucy immediately picked her son up and pressing lips to his little head, she pulled out from the room.

‘Sir, please just leave the house, you're clearly not welcome here,ʼ David spoke up through gritted teeth, feeling the pulsing veins on the side of his neck.

‘And who the fuck are you?ʼ The man flinched. ‘Another crackhead shagging my daughter?ʼ

David raised an eyebrow and just when he was about to answer that unpolite comment, Ryan's fist swished fast as a whip and landed straight on his face.

Ellen gasped and collapsed on the floor, so David hurried to hold her. She burst into tears, struggling to catch a breath.

‘Shh, it's okay, darling, calm down, I'm here. It's alright now. You're safe, I promise,ʼ he kept whispering into her hair, rocking her body gently.

Ryan took the arm of his dumbstruck father and flung him out through the front door. The door slammed behind them and David could still hear their yells.

Ellen's whole body was shaking and she couldn't get a word out, short of breath. Her gasps were short and shallow as she was almost choking on tears.

‘You're safe, love. I'm right with you.ʼ

When Ryan returned, he was also trembling, but with shock and fury. He kicked an umbrella stand and smashed fists against a chest of drawers. Lucy took Jack to his room and came back to calm her husband. He didn't need that though, he just walked through the backdoor on the stoop. David was still sitting beside Ellen, holding her in his arms and trying to mitigate the pain and the effects of her panic attack.

‘I am so sorry you had to witness that,ʼ Lucy said in a hushed voice and knelt beside them. ‘Would you help me carry her to the bed? She needs a rest.ʼ

Ellen didn't even try to protest, she was too weak to do anything but cling to him tightly as he lifted her and followed Lucy to a little room at the end of the hall. He laid her down on fresh white sheets and covered her with a blanket. Lucy offered to make tea and left the two of them alone in the room.

David sat on the edge of the bed and caressed her cheek, wiping away some tears. His head was buzzing with emotions so intense they were close to implode. However, he kept it all inside, because the only thing that really mattered at the moment was her comfort.

‘It's alright, my sweet love. No one's gonna hurt you, I swear.ʼ

All he heard were quiet sobs slowly fading, until she finally fell asleep, exhausted and wounded like a little bird.

When Lucy entered the room, carrying a tray with two steaming cups and a sugar bowl, David shifted his stare to her and rubbed his eyes.

‘Thank you,ʼ he said as she put the tray on a bedside table.

She cast him a kind smile and soon decided to give him some time alone with Ellen to cool down, which he really appreciated.

Gazing at her face, flushed and swollen from crying, he just couldn't believe anyone would've ever wanted to hurt her. She was so pure and good, she really deserved the best, but somehow life had prepared so many bad things for her. And she had been so strong to bear this for so many years, it wasn't surprising at all that eventually she snapped. He wasn't even sure if he would've been able to take so much. The nasty thoughts in his head got much more aggressive now and started biting him. He still didn't know what had happened between her and her father, but after today's events, the picture became clearer to him.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips, tilting head back. Breathing was much more difficult, when the idea of the man hurting this little vurnelable creature in such an awful way crawled into his head. He was so angry and frustrated, he wished for a way to relieve those emotions.

Making sure Ellen was in fact asleep, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead and tucked her in, before quietly leaving the room. He didn't know what to do with himself, but right now he just needed to smoke, because his lungs were burning. When he went out on the stoop, he met Ryan, sitting on a bench, drinking beer.

‘How is she?ʼ he asked, without glancing at him.

David lit a cigarette and sat down on a chair. Ryan tossed him a bottle of beer and David caught it, a little surprised. He opened the beer with a lighter and took a big drink.

‘She's sleeping now.ʼ

Ryan sighed, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. ‘That fucker better not show up at my house ever again.ʼ

The day was coming to the end, with the sun slowly hiding behind a small rise covered with grass and two oak trees on the top.

David remained silent.

‘I'm sorry for that shit back then. It's, you know, it's really messed up.ʼ

‘Aren't all families messed up?ʼ David said bitterly and shook off the ashes from the cigarette.

‘She had a tough childhood. Ellen. Much tougher than me or my brother. And none of us were there for her. Not me, not Harry, not even her own mother. And we all knew.ʼ He spilled out the last words like venom.

The only reply David mustered up was a slow shake of a head as if he was trying to get rid of the haunting thoughts and images.

A big lump rose in his throat. He hid his face in his hands and let out a muffled groan. ‘Fuck.ʼ

The silence between them was hard to swallow, but it was the only thing they could afford at the moment. They were sitting on the stoop, drinking beer and smoking cigarette after cigarette, until the sky turned dark-grey and the mosquitoes went out for a blood hunt.

‘I should be going now,ʼ David sighed, placing his empty bottle on a small round table between them. ‘It's getting late and I wouldn't want to impose on you.ʼ

Ryan withstood. ‘You can stay. Ellen could really use some decent rest after today, and I'm afraid she may have another panic attack if she wakes up and you're gone.ʼ

He had a point, David couldn't leave her side now. Not after everything that had happened today and everything he had found out. He thanked Ryan for their hospitality and announced that he'd go check on Ellen.

The house was already quiet, only in the kitchen the lights were on – probably Lucy still cleaning after the dinner. David passed it by and went straight to the room, where Ellen was. When he slowly pushed the door open, trying not to wake her, and entered the room, the first thing he noticed was an empty bed. The next second he smelled smoke and his stare shot to the opened window, where she was sitting on the sill with a cigarette between her fingers.

She must've heard him coming in, but didn't react. The only move she was making was lifting the cigarette to her mouth and taking a drag just to exhale plumes of smoke a few moments later. David walked across the room and when he found himself by the window too, he wrapped his arm around her. It tore his heart a little to see her flinch under his touch, but he just pulled her closer and Ellen slowly rested her head against his chest. She wasn't shaking anymore, which was a good thing, but her mind wandered off far away and it was troubling to think about how she felt right now. He brushed her bare shoulder and kissed her soft dark hair.

‘I was so terrified to see him again,ʼ she faltered, her eyes fixed on the tree tops outside the window. ‘Deep inside I guess I wanted to believe once I did, I would finally stand up to him. Scream into his face about all the times he hurt me. But instead I was just—petrified.ʼ

David took a cigarette from her hand and put it away. He cupped her pale face and made her look straight into his eyes.

‘Nothing's gonna touch you,ʼ he claimed sincerely. ‘Your whole life you were so brave and so strong, and now that I got you, I won't let anything bad happen to you. I promise. Let me take care of you.ʼ

Her eyes watered with tears and panic started rising in his heart, because he didn't want to make her cry, she had cried too many tears today. When she touched his cheek, he placed a soft kiss on the palm of her hand. He tried to act carefully, knowing she was still unstable. However, words were forcing their way onto his lips and he couldn't stop them anymore, even though it might not be the best time.

‘You asked me how I feel about you and I didn't tell you the most important thing. I avoided it, because words can't express feelings, but I want you to understand how much I care. Ever since you showed up in my life I was falling for you like a madman, completely and unconditionally. And I love you, Ellen.ʼ He fell silent for a moment, observing her reaction. Her blue eyes sparkled and her lips parted just a little bit. ‘More than anything. I feel like I should've said that ages ago, but I didn't want to scare you off with such a serious statement. But I'm serious about you and I think you should be aware of this.ʼ

Instead of saying anything, Ellen closed the gap between their lips, pressing them together firmly, and soon he could feel her cheeks getting wet with salty tears.

‘God, I didn't want to make you cry, I'm sorry—ʼ he muttered abashed.

She chuckled and pulled back. Her head tilted back until it met the window frame. She was sitting with one leg bent and the other hanging down from the outer windowsill. ‘Words don't express feelings, do they?ʼ

‘Not a bit,ʼ David confirmed and sat next to her.

The silver moon had climbed up the sky, shining brightly on the garden now. David flipped his legs outside the window and lit a cigarette to share with her. With the smoke rising up in the cold air and her head on his shoulder, they waited for another day to bring better things. That was a big moment in David's life, a breakthrough in his way of thinking. Suddenly the world's centre shifted from his own ego brain to the little innocent person by his side.


	31. what i will be believing

Before Ellen and David left Britford in the morning, Lucy forced them to have breakfast with them. She prepared poached eggs with sausages and baked beans, and each of them got a cup of hot coffee. They sat together to the table on the stoop, everyone trying to act like none of the events from yesterday happened.

Ellen wasn't in the mood for such substantial meal, she barely touched her toast and focused mainly on her coffee. She didn't speak much, but no one expected her to. Ryan seemed to be a little tensed too and David—well, David was still quite shocked. He hadn't expected a nice family weekend and despite not being happy about how things had turned out, he didn't regret being here. Quite the opposite – coming with Ellen was clearly one of the wisest choices he'd ever made. He was supposed to be her rock and now he got his chance to be one and he was going to try his best.

Lucy's efforts were surely appreciated, but none of them was actually hungry. Except for Jack, whose light-hearted attitude made him more talkative than usual.

‘David?ʼ he asked, stabbing yolk on his plate with a fork. ‘Why hasn't Duncan come? I promised to show him my birds atlas.ʼ

‘He had to stay home. You see, there are only two seats in my car,ʼ David explained, pointing with his chin at the vehicle on the driveway.

Jack turned around and carefully counted all the seats in the car. After doing the maths, he shifted his gaze back at David and asked, ‘When can I play with him?ʼ

‘Well, it's up to you, lad. And your dad of course.ʼ He glanced at Ryan shortly. ‘But you are always welcome in London, you know.ʼ

A rattling noise rang in his ears and everyone gathered by the table automatically looked to the source of the sound. Mrs Dean's hand was shaking and her fork was lying in the baked beans on her plate. Lucy moved away from the table and came to help her. A sudden wave of gloom hit David once again and caused him to look away. When his eyes met Ellen's, he cast a warm smile at her.

‘Maybe you'd like to join us at the mass at eleven?ʼ Lucy proposed.

The look Ellen gave him, while casting about an excuse, carried a request for his opinion. Such proposition wasn't something he could simply turn down, even though his relationship with God was rather complicated. Instead, he let Ellen make this decision, because honestly he would just do anything she pleased.

‘Oh, thank you, but I think I'll just do it in London,ʼ Ellen replied with a slight wave of a hand. ‘We're still wearing yesterday's clothes. Besides, we're kinda in a hurry, David has to go back to his son and I have to meet my landlady at noon.ʼ

Lucy nodded, acknowledging her excuse with a smile.

‘I think you should actually go now, shouldn't we?ʼ she said quietly, leaning towards David.

‘Sure, darling.ʼ He folded a napkin and put it next to his plate. ‘Thank you, Lucy, you're a truly incredible cook.ʼ

‘O-of course.ʼ Lucy's hand dropped onto the table along with the fork she was feeding Mrs Dean with. Her face brightened up at the compliment. ‘My pleasure.ʼ

David hid a pack of cigarettes back into his pocket and got up from the table. He gently grabbed on Ellen's hand and pulled the chair for her so she can stand up too. They said their goodbyes to everyone and Ryan walked them to the driveway.

‘It was very kind of you all to have us,ʼ David told Ryan, before opening the car. ‘And nice to meet your family. Your wife is a precious woman.ʼ

‘She is, isn't she?ʼ Ryan simpered, glancing at Lucy in the back, who was still trying her best to feed Mrs Dean. ‘Anyway, thanks for coming. Despite—you know.ʼ

David just smiled reassuringly and shook hands with Ryan, encouraging him to visit Haddon Hall anytime. He got into the car and gave Ellen a moment alone with her brother. The wing mirror showed an image of the siblings sharing a hug and through the cracked window, he heard scraps of their exchange.

‘Please, call me if anything happens,ʼ Ellen muttered and pulled back from the hug.

‘Don't worry about any of that, El. We'll take care of it, you take care of yourself, okay?ʼ Ryan poked his finger on her chest.

Ellen chuckled and walked towards the passanger's door. Opening them, she waved to Ryan one last time and got inside.

If their journey to Britford had been quiet, then going back to London was dead silent. They were holding hands the whole time – with short breaks for changing gears – their fingers intertwined and resting on her lap. Ellen fell asleep five minutes after they drove off, her head leant against the window. The sun reflected in her big blue-framed sunglasses, casting dark-pink shadows onto her cheeks. It was hard to focus on the road while she looked so calm and pretty next to him that it brought peace into his devastated mind.

Sunday morning was the time when streets were usually empty, so the journey didn't take too long. By the noon they were back in London and since he didn't want to wake her too early, he decided to drive her to her flat. Her big blue eyes didn't open until the car stopped by the front door. She blinked a few times and looked around to estimate their location.

‘Shit, I'm sorry, I'm the worst roadtrip companion,ʼ she groaned in a sleepy voice.

David giggled. ‘I'm glad you got some sleep.ʼ

She put the sunglasses up on her head and sighed. ‘What I could really use is a shower and clean clothes though. Wanna come in?ʼ

The thought of Duncan being left under Janet's care again made him hesitate for a moment, but Ellen's ask won over that. It wouldn't hurt to spend just an hour longer with her, after all she claimed to have to meet with Mrs Joyce soon. The heavy window curtains had been drawn, therefore the flat was very dark when they came in. Ellen didn't open them; instead, she simply turn up the light. David sat by the desk and lit a cigarette, awaiting for her to clean herself up. There were no further plans for today, but he didn't ask. It didn't actually matter, he just wanted to stick with her, make sure she's safe and has it all together.

‘You can use the shower too, if you want to.ʼ Ellen stood in front of an opened wardrobe and having pulled out some clothes, she tossed them onto bed. On top of it, he recognised his own grey shirt with a club collar. ‘I'm gonna leave you a clean towel in the bathroom.ʼ

‘Thanks. Mind if I use your phone in the meantime?ʼ He tilted his head at the device.

‘Sure. Just give me ten minutes.ʼ

When she disappeared behind the closed bathroom door, he lazily spun around in the chair and picked up the receiver. With a few deft moves of his index finger he dialled a number and waited patiently.

‘Hello?ʼ

‘Tony?ʼ He grunted. ‘It's David.ʼ

‘Well, well, if it isn't our favourite celebrity, who finally decided to _fucking _let everyone know he's alive!ʼ Tony's voice was soaked up with venom, but . ‘Do you think your career is a fucking joke? Because it surely isn't to anyone else, given it's their career as well!ʼ

He sounded like he was about to lose it, but David remained calm. It's not like he hadn't heard his producer like this before. After all, he had done much worse things, sometimes he would've disappeared for weeks, because he and Iggy got high and decided to visit Russia.

‘It's just one day, Tony, don't be so dramatic.ʼ He rolled his eyes and stubbed out the cigarette, just so he could draw another one from the pack. ‘And I contacted that magazine and called it off.ʼ

‘Oh. Right,ʼ he spat with sarcasm. ‘You should really think about your priorities, because right now I reckon you clearly don't give a shit of anything.ʼ

‘I've already thought about my priorities, Tony,ʼ David snapped, his hand shaking with anger when he tried to roll the sparkwheel down. A quiet hiss came from the tip of the cigarette once it was lit. ‘That's why I cancelled the bloody interview.ʼ

With no willingness to wait for a reply, he hung up on him violently. A deep breath through the cigarette filter caused his lungs to start burning with the thick smoke inside, but somehow it also calmed his nerves. When his head tilted back and his body sunk in the chair, he couldn't think about anything but the incredible need of having a drink. Before he managed to get up and desperately searched through Ellen's cupboards, she walked out of the bathroom, with every further step leaving small pools of water on the wooden floor.

He grabbed the clean clothes and slammed the door of the bathroom. He must've admitted the shower did him good. At least a third of his stress flowed down the drain and after putting on a fresh shirt and ruffling his hair with a towel, he felt slightly better. When he came back, Ellen was still sitting on the bed in the same position he left her – her elbows resting on her knees, and a pair of blue eyes fixed on some unknown point in the corner behind the wardrobe. He threw away the damp towel and sat beside her, a mix of anxiety and concern in his head.

‘Come here, love.ʼ He opened up his arms for her, which automatically drew her closer and let him close the embrace.

A loose strand of dark brown hair fell onto her eye when she lifted her stare to him. She was just gorgeous, with the piercing blue eyes and porcelain skin, but the hurt reflecting in her was awfully painful.

There was some sort of restlessness in her, because soon she got up and started to potter around, moving books on the shelf and some papers from one side of the desk to another. David watched her carefully, but didn't speak first.

‘I'm so sorry we had to stay the night there, I didn't even ask if you were okay with that—ʼ

‘Jesus, Ellen, would you please stop apologising?ʼ David knitted his eyebrows, straightening up. Ellen came closer, her eyes downcast, and once she was close enough, he cupped her hands, raising them up to his chin. ‘Are you okay?ʼ

‘I don't know. Is any of us ever?ʼ

David smiled sadly and stood up, which instantly made him taller than her. When she leant against his chest, he wrapped one arm around her and put other hand on the back of her head. Her warm breath was tickling on his skin through the shirt.

‘I'm here if you need to talk, you know it, right?ʼ

‘I don't wanna talk. I just wanna stop thinking about this madness,ʼ she spat through gritted teeth, pulling her hair. He grabbed her wrists and lowered them gently.

‘Let's take a walk then,ʼ he murmured in a soft voice, caressing her hand with his thumbs. ‘Let's have a coffee, wander aimlessly around parks, talk about the worst films we've ever seen. Let's just do us.ʼ

Her eyes flickered at the words that surprised even him and for a moment there was relief and joy in them. There was hope, that it wasn't supposed to be this way forever, because things do get better and so would she.

★

‘You do realise your current _disguise _is much worse than no disguise at all?ʼ

David walked by her side, a large paper cup of black coffee in his hand, and his eyes were hidden under oversized blue-framed sunglasses with little diamonds by the hinges.

‘What do you mean much worse? I think I look fantastic,ʼ he snorted.

‘Oh yeah, and you draw literally no attention,ʼ she giggled into her cup. ‘But the sunglasses suit you though. You should get ones.ʼ

‘No, darling, this attribute's already permanently assigned to Elton John. And you,ʼ he added, taking off the sunglasses and put them on Ellen's nose, before pecking it playfully.

The park they chose to visit today was probably one of Londoners' least favourite square. Perhaps calling it a park was an overestimation, for there were only five trees and a tiny fenced space with a slide and a swing, but the lack of passers-by made it up for them in the attractiveness tier. It allowed them to hold hands without worrying about curious looks. Besides, it was quite near her flat and she didn't want to hold him back for too long, because his son was waiting for him.

‘Do you know literally every single person from the music industry?ʼ she asked in amusement mixed with bellwilderment.

‘Reggie and I have been good friend actually, we met in a café before any of us got famous.ʼ

‘You don't seem to hang out with him very often though,ʼ she noticed. ‘Not since I've known you.ʼ

‘We've both been quite busy. Although, I can arrange lunch with him next Saturday, if you want to,ʼ he proposed casually, but his eyes sparkled. ‘He's a gorgeous person, I think you'd love him.ʼ

Ellen bit her lip and let go of his hand. The idea of meeting his friends was thrilling, but also bringing not best memories, considering the last time she found herself within some of them. There was an obvious answer forcing its way onto her lips, however, she was trying to avoid poisoning the air between them with any of the problems they had to face. Which meant, no talking of her family or his drug addiction.

‘You're crazy.ʼ She let out a chuckle and shook her head.

‘I'm not, believe me, my mother had me tested,ʼ he claimed, his face very serious only to crack up with laugh a second later when she stopped and slapped his chest with an open hand.

He pressed her hand to the place she hit and held it, staring into her eyes.

‘What? Why are you looking at me?ʼ

‘How could I not?ʼ A simper curled his lips.

The harsh light of a sunny day shrunk his healthy pupil and brightened up his irises to unnatural pale blue colour. It wasn't so easily to be put in words; hadn't someone experienced seeing them from so close, they couldn't understand how it felt. His eyes were just truly extraordinary, they were something she had never seen before and therefore his stare was like a spell to her.

‘I love you.ʼ The three words crawled out of his lips quietly and carefully, like cat paws stepping on soft sheets.

The care and affection he treated her with wasn't something she was used to. However, hearing him saying this with such engagement was melting the ice cage isolating her heart. She wanted to return those words, but they got stuck in her throat, leaving her speechless. Maybe she wasn't ready to admit it aloud. Maybe it was still too early or she was still too broken. Her breath fastened as she started panicking. The first time he said this, she took it as a way to make her feel better and safer, but this time he had no reason to not mean it. It was not his commitment that scared her off, it was the fear of her not being able to return it the way he expected from her. But David remained patient around her. He didn't put any pressure, he didn't expect her to say it back, he just wanted to let her know. And remembering his own confession he made to her on their first night together, now she wondered whether he was real.

This day was supposed to be free from any trouble, a day of blissful forgetting, and therefore David, who instantly picked up her anxiety, decided to leave it.

‘Let's go to see a film tonight, what you say?ʼ he proposed, the tone of his voice switching back to careless and joyful.

‘Only if you pick it. Apparently films are something I know less about than modern music.ʼ

‘We'll work on this,ʼ he promised, voice cracking with amusement, and planted a gentle kiss on her temple. ‘But until that, I'm not letting you decide on a film anymore and you have to accept it.ʼ

‘That's a deal then.ʼ As they reached a pedestrian crossing near Mr Furlong's shop, the lights switched to red, forcing them to wait for all cars to pass through. ‘Anyway, I shouldn't be stopping you any longer. Go home, spend some time with Duncan and we'll meet later.ʼ

The street got empty for a moment and they took the opportunity to cross the road, too impatient to wait for a green light. A few minutes later they were almost at her doorstep.

‘I hate saying goodbye to you,ʼ he groaned, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

‘Then don't,ʼ she shrugged and freed herself to resume walking. ‘Just turn around and go home.ʼ

‘Oh no, I wouldn't do that,ʼ he said, following her until they stopped in front of the door of the building she lived in. While she was fishing for the keys, he leant against the wall and continue his speech. ‘What if I die in a car accident? Would you stand over my grave and mourn me, knowing you were the one who told me to leave without goodbye?ʼ

‘If you die in a car accidentʼ—her voice sounded stern and warning as the key she pointed at him with touched his chest—‘I will kill myself, find you in the spirit world and kick your sorry arse for leaving me. So you better don't.ʼ

He pulled away her hand along with the keys and drew her closer before placing a passionate kiss on her lips. ‘I'll see you later.ʼ

A big, silly beam force its way on her face. David walked to the car, an unlit cigarette between his lips, and opened the door. Standing in the doorway, she kept her eyes on him until the vehicle disappeared behind an arc of buildings.

There was only one thing left to do before she could sink into bed and fall in the blissful oblivion of sleep, forgetting about everything that had happened yesterday.

Having saved up some money, Ellen was finally able to pay back the rent she had been behind. She felt really bad about lingering for so long, but with all the things going on around her recently, she skipped a few days of work and her wage the previous week had turned out much poorer than usually. In her mind, she made a little apologising speech to Mrs Joyce and knocked on the door at the end of the dark hall.

There was no answer, so she repeated it, louder this time. She waited a moment, straining her ears but behind the door there was nothing but dead silence. Understanding that no one would open the door, she gave up with a sigh and took the stairs up to her flat. The exhaustion was almost paralysing her muscles and she couldn't think of anything but the warm bed. And maybe a cigarette first.


	32. and who will connect me

Ellen didn't like parties.

She had her reasons for that, of course. One of them was the fact that it was always crowdy and loud, and she preferred quiet dark room and a good book. The other one might've had something to do with her bad experiences. When she had been sixteen, her friend Poppy persuaded her to sneak out of the house and go to a disco in Salisbury, where she had got awfully drunk for the first time and suffered from the most horrible hangover while participating in a school piano competition the next day. Another time, she had accidentally caught her boyfriend cheating on her when she'd been looking for a bathroom at some house party. When she had decided to attend parties as a teetotaller, she had only witnessed pathetic and obnoxious behaviour of other drunk people that had been hard to even look at while being sober.

And the last time she had agreed ot going anywhere, it had turned out that the person she cared the most about, was still using drugs.

Parties had never been exactly her cup of tea, but for some reason people are too careless to learn from mistakes, especially when the situation is at least slightly different. Only because of that – because another gathering of rich famous people was hidden behind a facade of something innocent at first sight – Ellen didn't say no.

‘I got two ticket to a play this evening. Would you do me the honour and go with me?ʼ David proposed over a coffee.

It was nine in the morning and David had surprised her with a visit before her work. Ellen liked those small gestures very much; every time she saw David unexpectedly, her heart fluttered.

‘Oh, what are they playing?ʼ she asked curious, setting her cup on the table. ‘I hope you don't plan to take me to Romeo and Juliet.ʼ

‘Darling, although you've guessed the author correctly, I am most certainly not that cliché,ʼ he chuckled. ‘It's Hamlet.ʼ

Her eyes sparkled. ‘I loved the book! Though Prince Hamlet was such an edgy brat—ʼ

David's eyes widened and he held his breath, before pointing a finger at her and saying: ‘He most certainly was not a—You know whatʼ—he put his cup back on the table so rapidly, the black liquid spilled on the table cloth—‘let's go see it and then spend whole night on arguing, what'cha say?ʼ

‘Sounds even better than with the play solely in schedule.ʼ

‘Great. I'll pick you up at six.ʼ He gave her a charming smile, which warmed her heart and she immediately smiled back.

★

Following their plan, after finishing the coffee David walked Ellen to work and got a taxi himself. He had to deal with some formalities entwined with the tour that was starting next month. Arranging the tour had been even tougher to him, considering the fact it meant a long separation from Ellen. They had been spending most of the time together; in fact there hadn't been a day that they didn't see each other. The thought of not seeing her for three months made him sick. On the other side, it motivated him even more to do more things with her, hence the theatre tonight. He wanted to give her all the best of himself and maybe – just maybe – it was unconsciously caused by the fear of screwing things up during the tour. Their relationship hadn't been lasting long, however he had developed such a great attachment to her that he started doubting he would ever be able to cope without her anymore.

By the time he finished business and got home, his mind was only carrying positive thoughts though. He was really looking forward going out with Ellen, because he knew about her little adoration of English literature. However, it was all swept away once he saw a pile of letters on the dining table, with one particular on top of it.

‘Did you put it here, Janet?ʼ he muttered, leaning a cigarette in a notch of the ashtray.

‘What?ʼ Janet raised her stare from above a newspaper. ‘Ah, yes. You have some outstanding bills to pay, you know it? The ones in yellow envelopes. You should deal with them as soon as possible or they'll cut off the energy.ʼ

David glanced on the letters only for a brief second, because something else caught his attention. He grabbed a white envelope with a red stamp in the top right corner. The juicy red letters spelled the name of the Swiss civil office. His hands were slightly shaking, so he decided to pour himself a drink before opening it.

‘Are you okay, Dave?ʼ Janet was clearly concerned with his reaction and she put the newspaper aside and gave him a careful look.

‘The divorce papers,ʼ he stuttered. He turned the letter in his fingers, examining the envelope. It had been opened before and resealed, there was no post stamp on. ‘She's in town and she's just tossed the fucking divorce papers into my mail box. What a piece of cold-arse bi—ʼ

‘David!ʼ she chided him.

‘Oh come on, you know I don't wanna see her lying face, but she could've at least come and see Duncan!ʼ

‘Maybe it's just as hard for her as it is for you—ʼ

‘Don't you justify her in my presence, would you?ʼ he snapped in irritation.

Janet fell silent, but couldn't resist shaking her head in disapproval. Soon she disappeared from the room, leaving him alone with a glass of whisky, the stack of unpaid bills and the documents from his wife's divorce attorney. A cigarette between his lips had smoked out itself during the short time when he had forgotten how to breath. He put it down in the ashtray and reached for another one. His eyes were scanning the documents held in one hand, while the other hand tried to light the cigarette. The thought of that poor imitation of marriage made his stomach tie a knot. He tossed the papers away and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. It is often to say in order to calm down one must take ten deep breaths – apparently it's an activity long and absorbing enough for one to retrieve aplomb. From David's personal experience, he could simply say it was all rubbish.

He was too unstrung to count to ten. However, the ability of counting to three remained, so he walked to the mini-bar and topped up his glass one more time, and then another.

‘Daddy, can we play?ʼ Duncan came over and stopped a few feet away.

David sighed and ran fingers through his hair. ‘Darling, I can't now.ʼ Little pink lips curled in a pout and blue eyes filled with sadness. He couldn't stand looking at his son being so upset, so he lifted him up and sat on his lap. ‘But we will play tomorrow, alright? We can go to the zoo or to a park, it's all up to you.ʼ

Duncan rubbed his eyes with fists and a shy hopeful smile replaced a pout on his face. ‘Will we go feed the ducks?ʼ

‘Of course!ʼ David let out a soft laugh and kissed his son's forehead. ‘But right now, I need to go, okay? I promise, tomorrow it will be just you and me.ʼ

Promises were something that David had been unable to solve. In his whole turbulent life, he rarely had been giving anyone his word. It was very easy to break a promise and he wanted it to retain a _meaning_. The problem was, most people are expecting promises as an assurance, because of their apparent lack of trust. And thus, David had made a few promises. He had vowed love and loyalty to his wife – now almost ex wife. He had promised Ellen he would never hurt her and he had, multiple times probably. He had, at least a hundred times, gave a word to be in the studio on time and the number of angry phonecalls from Tony scolding him for not coming was nearly the same. David tried his best to be a good person but he would always screw things up with broken promises. And because of the urge to change that – also because of being slightly muzzy – he did that tiny promise to his son. It was his bloody son and he should be able to rely on his father. Especially, when he clearly could not rely on the other parent.

The empty glass clinked against the table when David put it aside and stood up from the chair. The noise scattered nasty thoughts of the divorce, what allowed him to go upstairs and get ready before going out, a mix of relief and gloom still inside his chest.

★

‘I am going to kill you.ʼ Ellen's voice was so weak that it was hard to believe she was able to harm a fly.

The grand hall they found themselves in, was enlightened by an enormous chandelier hanging from the central point of the ceiling. Ellen couldn't understand what was the deal with luxurious places and chandeliers, but maybe rich people liked to feel overwhelmed. Personally, chandeliers made Ellen anxious, especially when passing directly under them.

David chuckled under his breath and took her by the arm.

‘You said _a theatre_!ʼ she hissed, leaning closer to him, her eyes scanning all the people inside.

‘Well, it's not exactly a football stadium either, now is it?ʼ he rolled his eyes. ‘Who did you think goes to a theatre? They do both Shakespeare _and_ Greek tragedies, of course there are lots of pretentious blisters pretending they know what is going on onstage.ʼ

‘I am dressed like a scarecrow,ʼ she whined, curling to his side as she was trying to blend into his expensive suit.

Still holding her by arm, he grabbed on her free wrist and pulled her closer so now they were standing face to face. His eyes flickered with fondness as he spoke softly. ‘Stop comparing yourself to those people. You're the most gorgeous woman here.ʼ

Her cheeks burnt with blushes and she shook her head with a quiet chuckle. ‘Will you ever stop saying things that make my face look like a summer tomato?ʼ

‘Not until you believe it,ʼ he said with a grin.

‘Right now I cannot believe you're such a—a muppet!ʼ she choked out.

‘A muppet who loves you.ʼ

‘And is literally the cheesiest person I've known.ʼ She rolled her eyes, but cracked a smile.

They walked to the desk in front of the entrence to the loge. Right next to it, there was a bar counter with plenty of expensive alcohol bottles behind it. It was the palce where most of the people who were about to go to see the play were having their drinks. It seemed sort of pointless to Ellen, because how would they want to fully experience the play if they were drunk. However, it was not for her to judge. They all didn't matter to Ellen, she decided to focus her attention on David and the performance; everyone else could actually go to hell.

‘Jones, two people,ʼ David threw casually to the man behind the desk.

The man, with a tag pinned to his shirt saying his name was Thomas, ran his finger across a list on his desk and furrowed his brows in confusion. ‘I'm sorry, the loge seems to be already full.ʼ

‘Please, check it again, sir,ʼ David demanded politely, although Ellen could tell it had caught him off balance a little. ‘I have most certainly reserved two tickets for the play.ʼ

‘I sincerely apologise, Mr Jones, there must've been some sort of m-misunderstanding,ʼ he stuttered, his face showing signs of fright and Ellen could only imagine how often he must've been given hell by demanding spoiled rich douchebags that were surrounding them even now. ‘If you follow me to the management office, please?ʼ

‘Wait here for me, love, would you?ʼ David muttered to her, moving his lips close to her temple.

Ellen nodded slowly and soon she watched him disappear with the theatre worker. She decided to come over to the bar and asked for a water. It didn't take longer than a few minutes, when she was approached by a tall, blonde woman in a beautiful sequin dress. Her hand was shaking a glass of martini with a green olive on a cocktail stick swimming inside, and the sequins on her dress sparkled from time to time, making her look like the star of the evening, even though they were just in the theatre lounge.

‘I've heard your the new girl of David Bowie.ʼ Her accent was definitely American, but her voice smooth and sonorous. ‘It that true?ʼ

She was high-classed and the way confidence was beaming from her only confirmed it. She must've shown up in places like this many times before, because she looked calmed and sort of bored. She seemed somehow familiar, but there was a blank spot in Ellen's brain, where a name should've been assigned to the face. When Ellen nodded politely, clenching fingers on a golden bracelet, the woman's smirk became much more human.

‘Oh you poor thing.ʼ

Ellen burst into dry laughter. ‘Excuse me?ʼ

The woman gave her a comforting smile, but it looked more as if she was the one who needed to be comforted.

‘You see, the problem with David isʼ—she let out a sigh, leaning her body against the counter—‘that he falls in love suddenly and intensively like a thunder. And it's so robust, so—unconditional, that it makes you think you're the only one. And you are. He strikes you down, makes you give him everything without him even asking. Then he just drains you out and leaves. That's just what he is, and I'm so sorry, sweetheart. He's the most breathtaking lightning you've ever seen. And for a short moment you can only admire it. Observe it, hear it. But you cannot ever possibly keep it.ʼ

‘How do you even know that?ʼ she scoffed, trying to ignore the fretsome pounding inside her chest.

‘I stood in that storm once too.ʼ The woman's lips twisted in a bitter smile.

And just like that, with this smile scratched out on the walls of Ellen's brain, the strange woman turned around, calling with a faked happiness to a group by a huge Hamlet poster, and disappeared in the crowd of newcome people. Ellen stood there, stunned by what she had just heard. There was no reason to believe any of those words. However, they had already planted a seed of doubts in her mind.

When David showed up back by her side, she was still staring blankly at the wall behind the bar.

‘I'm sorry for that, love. It's all fixed now. Turns out it really _was_ just a little misunderstanding. So, shall we?ʼ He offered her his arm, with a mischievous smirk on his face.

She returned the smile faintly and let him lead the way to the loge, trying to leave all the thoughts of that odd encounter behind.

As much as Ellen adored Shakespeare, at first she couldn't share David's enthusiasm. Whether she wanted it or not, she did feel quite uneasy. Luckily, the further the play went along, the more she was letting go of those feelings and just enjoying the show instead. Right after the first act had finished and the curtains closed, Ellen made up her mind to just let the whole situation slide into oblivion. At least for as long as possible. After all, if David didn't find out, it wouldn't really make any difference in their relationship. It had only made a slight difference in her, but that was something she would be able to kill before it sprouted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay guys so updating every day is done i'm afraid, currently i have no more chapters written!  
i think the story will take about 5 chapters more, but now i go back to work and uni so that means less free time. i'll try to finish it as soon as possible though! 
> 
> anyway, if you have any questions or simply want to chat, feel free to dm me anyway on my instagram @hallo.spacebowie


	33. with love

Ellen couldn't have contacted her landlady until two weeks after the theatre incident. It was the very end of July and she had been stashing money for the next rent in a metal biscuit box, where the biscuits had been stored only for an hour since she had bought them. It brought extra stress to her nerve system, because another day of her landlady's absence forced another day behind rent for Ellen. Even Mr Furlong couldn't answer the question what had happened to her, but then again, being close neighbours didn't entail being close friends.

Everything became clear the morning Ellen and David had driven to the city after spending the night in Haddon Hall and stopped by her flat for a few things. Ellen still hadn't fully come to terms with the fact she practically lived at his home, so every morning she would go to the flat first to get changed before work. For some reason – completely irrational for someone taking a detached attitude – it seemed a better option. She liked to feel that she still owned something, had an actual physical place to go.

When both of them entered the hall, she immediately noticed that the door to Mrs Joyce's flat were slightly open. There were two voices were coming from behind it – one surely belonging to her landlady, but the second was completely unrecognisable to Ellen.

‘Could you wait for me in the flat? I need to speak with the landlady,ʼ she said to David, and he nodded before going upstairs.

Ellen came to the door and knocked. A head full of thick brown hair peaked out, and icy-grey eyes sent her a very irritated look.

‘How can I help you?ʼ a man her age asked politely, but his tone didn't suggest that he was willing to actually help her with anything.

‘Um, I'm sorry to bother you, but is Mrs Joyce home? I live upstairs and—ʼ

He opened the door wider and crossed his arms. ‘Ah, so you're the infamous lodger? Er, sorry. The former lodger.ʼ

The room, which used to be a living room, had been emptied of all furniture. There were only four beige walls and old wooden floor, carrying the echo of their voices. The windows looked naked without floral curtains Mrs Joyce had hung above them. Ellen had no idea what this was all about, but it surely didn't look good. Especially with what the man was saying.

In spite of all the efforts to remain calm, her left eye twitched. ‘Excuse me? Who are you, sir?ʼ

‘Robert, where's my lamp?ʼ Ellen saw Mrs Joyce and her heart sunk. She looked so lost, so confused in her own house, and there was something in her eyes confirming that she really felt that way. ‘My beautiful antique bedside lamp, the one with the lilies on the shade.ʼ

‘What lamp? We've already packed your lamp!ʼ The man, named Robert, answered impatiently.

Mrs Joyce came closer and when their eyes met, her face showed curiosity. ‘Oh, hello, young lady!ʼ

Ellen felt relief, because this strange situation was finally about to come to an end. She had almost saved enough money to pay all the rent and with her next week's wage it would all be finally covered up.

‘Mrs Joyce, can I talk to you about, you know, the rent?ʼ she asked sheepishly, glancing over at the man, supposedly the landlady's son.

Except, the words Mrs Joyce said to her next only confounded her more.

‘If you're here to rent the flat, then it's my son you should talk to really, he's in charge of it now.ʼ

‘Um, but I'm already renting it—ʼ Ellen scratched her neck, feeling more and more nervous. How come she couldn't remember her?

‘Not anymore, actually,ʼ the man cut in, heaving a sigh. The wry frown on his face making him look much older than he must've really been. ‘I'm sorry to say it, but I need you out of the flat by the end of the week.ʼ

‘What? But I'm—ʼ

‘Lady, it doesn't actually matter what you are.ʼ He waved away his hand. ‘The house is for sale, so unless you wanna buy it, your forgoing accommodation here isn't any relevant.ʼ

To that point, Ellen was angry and anxious, and it was the anger that dominated all the other emotions. ‘Would you at least tell me what this is all about?ʼ

The man sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Well, as you can see, my mother is—no longer capable of dealing with the flat.ʼ

‘Robert, for God's sake, I am still here, you know it, right?ʼ Mrs Joyce bridled, feeling offended.

Her comment, however, had been ignored by him. Instead, he gave her a weak smile and dragged Ellen aside. ‘You see, my name's actually Theo. Robert is my father. Who died, ten years ago. So the rest you can figure out by yourself, I suppose.ʼ

Ellen didn't know what to say. She kept shifting her gaze from him to Mrs Joyce, her mouth opening and closing, like a fish in a tank.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Mrs Joyce approached them and tapped on her son's shoulder. ‘Robert, have you seen my lamp? It stood over there—ʼ

Theo turned around and put his hand on Mrs Joyce's shoulder. ‘I'm sure they've already packed it.ʼ Then, he turned to Ellen and for the last time, he spoke to her. ‘If you excuse me now.ʼ

Ellen was gently pushed outside the door before it closed. She stood in front of it, completely stunned and unable to move, for at least a minute, trying to process everything that had just happened, but it seemed to be currently unapperhanded.

At the top of the stairs, David was sitting on a step, smoke lazily escaping from the orange sparkling tip of the cigarette he held in his teeth, mixing in the air with the one he exhaled from his mouth.

‘You didn't leave me the keys,ʼ he explained with a smirk, when she raised her gaze to him. As soon as he noticed her blank face, he quickly stood up and walked down the stairs to meet her halfway. ‘What's wrong?ʼ

‘I—ʼ she muttered weakly, her hands searching the pockets of her jeans for the keys as he was escorting her upstairs. She couldn't fit the key in the hole, so David took it from her and unlocked the door himself.

Once inside, she sat on the bed and hid her face in hands. ‘I just—I think I just got kicked out of the flat.ʼ

‘What? How come?ʼ David stopped, shocked with the statement.

‘I don't even know. Mrs Joyce's son told me I have to move out by the end of the week.ʼ

‘But they can't do it!ʼ David bridled, throwing his arms in the air. ‘Not as long as the rental contract is still valid.ʼ Ellen stared at him and suddenly felt really stupid and irresponsible. ‘You do have a lease signed, don't you?ʼ Her lowered gaze was enough for an answer, because he rapidly flopped onto a chair and, cursing under his breath, lit another cigarette. ‘Fuck.ʼ

‘Yeah,ʼ she agreed bitterly. ‘I don't know what to do, David—ʼ

She was so stupid. How had she wanted to take the responsibility for her life, if she couldn't even take proper care of such basical thing as renting a flat? It was something to face – she had no idea what she was doing with her life. Until now, it had all been just luck. She had been lucky to get a job right after coming to London, she had been lucky to find a flat, lucky to meet David. But it all didn't mean anything – none of those was on her.

‘Move in with me,ʼ David said suddenly, getting on his feet.

‘What?ʼ

‘Move in with me,ʼ he repeated emphatically, making it sound like the most obvious thing in the world.

Ellen stared at him, with her eyebrows knitted, trying to detect some trace of a joke in his eyes, but he was deadly serious.

‘I—I can't,ʼ she stuttered in disbelief.

‘Why not?ʼ

Although there was nothing she wanted more than to be with him and although they practically lived together already, his proposition was something she couldn't even seriously consider. She was so grateful to him for everything and she certainly had feelings for him, but there were far more complicated matters that were stopping her from saying yes. However, mentioning them was one of the hardest things to do, so she decided to cowardly put on another card instead.

‘What about your son? Your _wife?_ʼ

‘Why are you still so concerned about her?ʼ he sighed, taking a seat opposite her and cupping her hand. The coldness of his skin went all the way to her spine. ‘Look, darling. I am pretty sure you have noticed by now that my _wife _doesn't live with me anymore.ʼ

It almost slipped out from Ellen's mouth, the accusive confession about her unexpected encounter with his wife. That woman there, she could've been anyone. It could've been any woman David had slept with; Ellen reckoned there were plenty. However, hardly anyone would have had the cheek to initiate a confrontation like that one; it takes great bitterness and regrets to do such thing. Ellen had seen all of that in the woman's eyes and regardless of all the things she had heard about Angela Bowie, she felt sorry for her.

She still couldn't stop thinking about it. Maybe it wasn't actually worth the worry, but it was something that couldn't leave her mind so easily. Earlier, she had promised herself she wouldn't mention it to David because it could only cause a fight between them. Right now, the fight was already hanging heavily in the air, so it was even more unsought to mention.

She gulped and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to concentrate back on David's words.

‘—and Duncan, he likes you very much. He keeps asking of you. Besides, the house is quite big, if you don't want to live _with me_, you can choose your own room, you can choose which bathroom you want to brush your teeth in, and in which to take a bath.ʼ

Unable to get a word out of her mouth, she was just staring at him dazed for a longer moment. Her brain tried to compose a rational reply, but the racing heart in her ribcage was very distractive.

‘David, I am really thankful for your offer, but I can't do it,ʼ she said slowly and blankly. ‘To be completely honest with you, currently I can't even afford renting a room in Brixton, let alone a bloody broomstore in that enormous mansion of yours.ʼ

David scoffed and moved his chair backwards. He stood up and started walking back and forth around the room now, clearly annoyed. ‘I can't believe this is about the money again. Jesus Christ, Ellen, what makes you think I want any money from you?ʼ

She clenched her fists. ‘What makes you think I wanna live like some kind of a parasite?!ʼ

‘Fine. If it's so important to you, you can work as a babysitter for Duncan.ʼ He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. ‘I can even pay you, so you can pay me bloody rent, but that even _sounds_ ridiculous!ʼ

Ellen stood up rapidly and spat out through gritted teeth, ‘You say it's not about the money and then make everything about money, don't you? Is it, I don't know, beyond your comprehension that I _don't want_ our relationship to include any money-related favours? Is it so hard to understand that it would make me feel like—ʼ

‘Like what?ʼ

‘Like a bloody prostitute!ʼ she bellowed, glaring straight into his eyes.

Her words were followed by a moment of silence, during which what she'd just said kept replaying inside her head. Each time, she regretted saying that more.

‘Is that what you think of us?ʼ he whispered, eyebrows raised in disbelief. ‘In that case, is me getting comfort in you, sharing my deep thoughts and asking for advice, is it in exchange for sex? Does that make me a prostitute as well? Because, funny thing, I've always thought helping each other and having each other's back, that's just how a healthy relationship works,ʼ he said and then a short bitter chuckle escaped his mouth. ‘But then again, what would I know of one.ʼ

To that point, her head started aching like hell. Her body fell back on the bed. She was tired, overwhelmed and stressed, and she only wished to be left alone. She had no intentions to fight with David, but his insistency was backing her into a corner.

He knelt beside her and took her hand in his before speaking in a much softer voice. ‘Come on, my love, let me help.ʼ

Ellen broke her hand free from his grasp and shook her head. ‘No, David. I won't accept your help just so you can feel better about yourself.ʼ

‘Well, from what I know, people help each other because they _care_,ʼ he said with sort of bitterness. ‘Why do you have to be this stubborn?ʼ

‘I don't need your fucking help, can't you undestand? I've come here to take my life in my own hands, not to confide it with first person I stumble upon!ʼ

His eyes grew colder, and every last trace of willingness fell back from his face like a defeated army from a battleground. She immediately wished her tongue had been kept inside her mouth, just this one time.

‘I'm sorry, I didn't mean—ʼ she faltered, trying to reach him.

He stepped back and fixed his shirt.

‘Don't be sorry, darling,ʼ he said drily. ‘I understand. And I apologise, for my importunity. However, if you happen to change your mind, the house will be vacant from August.ʼ His voice was empty and apathetic as if he was reading a flyer slid in through a letter plate.

Despite feeling this great need growing inside her, the need to stop him, her body had turned into lead and it was much too heavy to lift, and her voice got stuck in her throat as though in a soundproof box. The only thing that didn't fail her was her sight, so she could watch him turn around, with his shoulders slumped, hands in the pockets and hurt in his eyes, and go.

‘Wait, David, please—ʼ she stammered out, but he either didn't hear that or just didn't want to.

Heavy salty tears ran down her cheeks and despite wide-opened eyes, her vision became more and more blurred. Just before pushing the door open, he paused, with one hand on the handle. Her heart flickered with hope for one second. And then, he gave up and left her alone, with the feeling of loneliness and hurt stabbing her chest all over again.

★

David had only managed to go downstairs and get inside his car, before a loud desperate cry escaped from his lips. He started the engine and immediately drove off without giving himself a second to hesitate. As much as he wanted to, he could not go back. He couldn't suffocate her – she had made that quite clear. Bizzare things people do when they're in love, David found out. Even if they mean no harm, they rather often end up hurting or getting hurt. In this case, both. However, David understood it was all on him. He shouldn't have overwhelmed her with his affection. It was just the unlikely fact that he had found someone who made him feel a better person, almost _a good person _in fact, it encouraged him to try even more. To compensate for everything he had done. Yet somehow, he had managed to fuck that up too. 

His palms were banging against the steering wheel, occasionally causing the car horn to let out short sharp honks.

Eventually, a man got out from a blue toyota standing in front of him, and knocked on the window of David's car. He opened it with a sigh.

‘Oi, would you stop blowing that bloody horn at me, sir?! There's a red light and I can't really do anything about it, can I?ʼ

The complaint had been left without a comment. David closed the window and overtook the blue toyota. Once he had gone through the red light, he sped up and swerved onto the pavement on his left, stopping the car right in front of a red telephone kiosk. He smashed the car door shut and went inside the phone box, searching his pockets for some change. Two coins rang after being slid into a slot. He held the receiver on his shoulder and dialled a number. Accompanied by the long beeps, he put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, waiting for someone to answer the phone. Then, the tone finally stopped and there was a crackle in the receiver.

‘Hi. V'you got time now?ʼ His hands were shaking but it was really nothing compared to the throbbing beating of his heart at the moment. ‘For a beer or something?ʼ

‘I'm sorry, Mr Jagger is currently out of country,ʼ a confused female voice said. ‘Shall I convey a message?ʼ

‘Oh. No, thank you. Have a good day,ʼ he grunted and replaced the receiver.

Shortly after that, he threw away a cigarette butt and repeated the whole calling procedure, dialling another number this time.

There was an instant answer on the other side of the line. ‘Yeah?ʼ

David felt a relief at the sound of the American voice and quickly lit another cigarette, a bit calmer now. 

‘Fancy a drink, Jim?ʼ he muttered and breathed out smoke. ‘It's on me.ʼ

‘Of course, always,ʼ he replied joyfully. ‘And who is it again?ʼ

‘Sorry. It's, er, David.ʼ

‘Ah! Mornin', Dave,ʼ Jim snorted. ‘What's the occasion? It ain't even noon.ʼ

‘I need to get pissed,ʼ he said vaguely, stating at his car parked in the middle of the pavement. A small group of people passed by, so he automatically averted his eyes, pretending the vehicle didn't belong to him. 

‘Something tells me you're already pretty pissed, huh?ʼ Jim guessed, and David didn't let him get carried away with the assumptions.

‘Don't make me any more, if you're so kind. Meet me at the Den?ʼ

‘Will be there in half an hour.ʼ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> «EDIT 2.03.2020»  
so--hello everyone!  
just a quick update, i haven't actually abandoned this book, i'm still here, just getting a grip on myself to finish it.  
i've had a shitty few months hence the break but i will be back, if anyone's still interested in how the plot will play out


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